


But Wait, There's More!

by Eoraptor



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: 2007, Clones, Community: Kim Possible Slash Haven, Gen, Mystery, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eoraptor/pseuds/Eoraptor
Summary: Team Possible thought maybe things would settle down after Graduation, but one of Team Go's old foes has come back to haunt both groups. Questions of identity abound for all concerned when a villainess confronts her past.Set Post-Graduation, in 2007.





	1. One of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Boring but important Legal Stuff: Kim Possible and all related characters are copy write 2002-2007 Walt Disney Corporation. Kim Possible created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Coke, Coca-Cola, and Sprite are trademarks of the Coca-Cola company (well duh!)  
> The work contained herein is not-for-profit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. No redistribution without the author’s consent is allowed. This fic is voluntarily rated PG for adult themes. If the material here is illegal where you’re located or you’re not mature enough to handle it: don’t complain to Disney, the moderators of the site this is hosted on, or me; JUST DON’T READ IT!
> 
> Less boring and still important stuff: This story is a response to one of the fan-issued challenges at KP Slash Haven… thanks to Freivolk for providing the initial inspiration, and BrendanK for a tidbit on the villain himself. And thanks to all the Havenites and other fans over the years for continuing to support this and my other works!

_((A/N Set Post Season 4))_

 

**Go City, Illinois:**

**GO Tower on île des Mouettes:**

“Hey Hego… Mail call! Nothing for me of course…” The skinny, purple and black-clad Mego threw a stack of mostly bills and junk mail at his older brother and snorted irritably as he sat down in front of the coffee table, or as Hego preferred to call it, ‘The Status Briefing Center.’

 

As they sat there, picking through which bills they could afford to pay this month, something that hadn’t happened in years caught their attention. The TV, or ‘Situational Awareness Monitor,’ sprang to life and the face of Go City’s Police Commissioner, James Du appeared.

 

“Ah, Hego, Mego, good! I’m glad you’re there… I have some… interesting news for you.”

 

Hego stood immediately at attention and actually saluted the public official. “Yes Sir! How can Team Go help?”

 

Mego gave a limp-wristed, mocking little salute and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Yeah… what he said.”

 

“Well, you see… Miles Warren died in prison yesterday…”

 

“The villainous curr is dead? Ah, I see…” Hego rubbed his chin in what he hoped was a thoughtful manner and considered the screen. “So why are we needed?”

 

“Well… you see…” The Comissioner rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from the screen for a moment. “It’s about his last will and testament. He seems to have left one of his lairs to you. It’s his legal property, and as his only ‘home address,’ couldn’t be sold off as restitution by the city, state, or federal government.”

 

“What do we need with a villain’s evil abode, your honour?”

 

Mego reached up and smacked his ‘big’ brother across the back of his thick head. “We’ll take it, erm, Sir. Thanks for letting us know.” Turning to Hego as the screen winked out, he gave him a look letting him know what he thought of the man-mountain’s reasoning abilities. “You idiot! Do you think I want to live in this stupid tower, on this damned bird-shit covered island, for the rest of my life? If you don’t want it, I’ll move in there!”

 

“Ow! Mego, no hitting in the Command Center!”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry for bespoiling our living room, Hego… Come on, let’s go before the twins find out about this and want their cut of my new apartment.”

 

\-----

 

**30 miles west of Go City, Illinois:**

**75 feet below ground level, in a corn field:**

 

As the elevator disgorged them into the secret lair of Miles Warren, all the lights began flicking on and machines began coming to life, preparing for whatever action their master would have of them after years of dormancy.

 

“Ah, I see we were expected… All the better that our foes be in fear of us and wont to prepare themselves!” Hego’s baritone voice echoed up and down the long corridor they were in as he struck a pose.

 

Mego rolled his eyes at the unconscious posturing of his older brother and sighed. “Can it glory boy. Let’s check out my new apartment and see if I get cable or not.”

 

Mego and Hego, or Jarred and Hannibal Sullivan as they were known to their parents and siblings, made their way down the corridor and into the main part of the missile-silo-turned-evil-lair as further machines sprang to life. In the center of the main level, they came upon several upright cylinders… the sign of Warren’s handiwork and stock-in-trade.

 

“Hey Heegs, Check this out, look what that dork left in my new apartment! Looks like a sex doll.” Mego tapped on one of the person-sized tubes that reclined slightly into the wall of the main room. It was the only intact one, and was humming faintly.

 

Hego walked over to the lone illuminated tube and saw a definite small female form inside. Attached to the door was a sticky note ‘Open Me.’

 

So he did.

 

\-----

 

**Middleton, Colorado:**

**The former/future site of the Possible Household:**

 

“Hey KP! Where do you want this air conditioning duct at?”

 

“Oh right over there, see if you can get Shego to help you with the…”

 

“Already on it, Princess… Hold it right there Stoppable. Yup, just like that.” twin green and black beams shot from manicured fingertips and struck cool steel.  Quickly, the newest section of air duct was welded on and Shego blew across her manicure as a few fingertips steamed.

 

Kim still couldn’t believe it. If she tried to think about it, her head began to spin. Shego was not a wanted villain any more, and she was actually… being helpful. …and of her own free will too, not because of the moodulator or the attitudinator or the compliance chip!

 

God they’d had their heads messed with a lot over the years, hadn’t they?

 

Even better, Shego had stopped calling Ron a Doofus or a Buffoon. Kim was about as happy as a girl could be in this situation. This situation, of course, was that her house had been blown to bits, along with most of downtown Middleton; and her arch enemies had actually fooled the entire planet by switching sides at the last moment to help save the Earth.

 

Kim wasn’t happy about the destruction of her childhood home or town, of course, but about the fact that one of her most secret desires of the past year seemed to have come true. Ever since Shego had been transformed into Miss Go back in October, Kim had been thinking about what it might be like to have her on the side of good for the long term. The emerald mal-content had been forced to become good by one of her old foes, and Kim had found out that hanging around the good version of the former teen hero was very much like having the sister she had always wanted.

 

At first the redheaded heroine had felt guilty about wanting to not change Shego back. After all, Shego hadn’t asked to be turned good again, and Kim had always known her as a villainess. It was Shego’s natural state to be evil, and Kim wasn’t going to mind-rape her to change that, considering what the original Attitudinator had done to Ron and how they all felt about mind-control.

 

Then the scientists at Global justice had determined how the “Reverse Polarizer” worked. Unlike the Attitudinator, which rebalanced the neurotransmitters in the brain and seriously messed with a person’s mental makeup and personality; the Polarizer worked more precisely, it flipped the action/reward structures in the brain so that a person who was normally good felt better about being bad, and vice versa.

 

So in short, Miss Go hadn’t been a mind-controlled woman with an artificial personality; she really was Shego, just with some subtle encouragement to behave herself. As Kim looked further into it, unable to get the events out of her mind, she realized more… Towards the end of that week, Shego actually had been becoming more like her old self and less like the super-saccharine Miss Go she had started out as.

 

Kim had begun forming a plan to sway Shego back to the side of good in the last few weeks, especially after they worked together against Warmonga the alien the first time. Of course, she hadn’t needed to. Reality intervened when Warmonga returned with her mate Warhok and a battleship full of alien robots, to conquer the Earth. Shego again worked on the side of good to help defeat her, and this time, was rewarded with a full pardon. And she seemed to be enjoying not being on the run any more, since she hadn’t really left Middleton since returning from a UN awards ceremony in Geneva two weeks ago.

 

“Hey cupcake, where’s the Coke? I’ve got a mega thirst going on here, and welding really takes it out of me.”

 

Kim was snapped out of her reverie by Shego’s question and shook her head at herself, rubbing the back of her neck in self-deprication. The redhead looked up after a moment and pointed to the little dorm-fridge hooked to the portable generator. “Grab me a Sprite too?”

 

“What do I look like, your butler?” the malachite mal-content gave her a sour look, but it quickly faded into a playful smirk as she wandered over to the fridge, grabbing out two soda cans and tossing one to her former nemesis.

 

“Well, Wade was talking about your butt last week…” Ron piped up from where he was trying to figure out how Shego had welded the duct-work without actual welding wire. He ducked a low-powered plasma bolt a moment later and yelped playfully, “Hey! I was just sayin!”

 

“Watch it monkey boy… I still have ole’ Monty and Amy on speed-dial.” Shego extended her playful smirk to the blonde boy as she took a pull from her coca-cola.

 

Kim laughed openly as she popped the top on her can and took a sip. Ron’s new-found confidence was just as refreshing as Shego’s sudden good’ish streak. The old Ron had held some confidence, of course… but it was of the non-conformist kind. The kind of cockiness people got from bucking the system. Whenever he was in a situation where “normalcy” was called for, he’d become uncomfortable, awkward, and clumsy.

 

Ever since graduation, when Ron had unlocked much more of his mystical monkey powers, he was so much more mature, so much more even-handed, and Kim felt her attraction for her goofy best friend growing in leaps and bounds beyond what it had been even a year ago when they had officially become a couple. She smiled happily as her boyfriend continued trading quips with her new friend and ran a hand through slightly sweaty red hair.

 

“Ah, now this is the life, GF… a blown up house, living out of a suitcase, and watching your boyfriend flirt shamelessly with your new gal-pal.”

 

Kim yelped, not realizing that her other female best friend had been standing right next to her for who knew how long. “Mo!” She laughed and hugged the dark-skinned girl up, laughing and shaking her head. “Ron is so no flirting! We’ve both seen him try to do that.”

 

Monique laughed and hugged Kim back, shaking her head. “I know… those lines of his are a crime. I think Shego would deep-fry him if he actually were flirting. I just needed three jokes for the holy trinity of humor. Besides… you’re living out of a suitcase at the Schlitz-Carlton… not all of us have the government paying for our temporary housing.”

 

Kim’s cheeks darkened to almost match her hair as she looked down. Many of the residents of Middleton were still living out of FEMA trailers or at the convention center, and she really wished sometimes that she could be living there with them, instead of giving interviews to every magazine and news-show on the planet from a 5-star hotel.

 

Seeing her best-friend slipping into self-hating mode, Monique patted her on the shoulder and laughed not wanting Kim to hate her good fortune, “Then again, not all of us are putting up with Katy Kernick knocking on our door with a camera team either, so I guess it all evens out in the end.”

 

The darker girl’s efforts were rewarded as Kim’s cheeks lightened up and she nodded, groaning her ascent at putting up with all of the celebrity thrust at her recently. Letting go of Kim, Monique turned and whistled at the Doctors’ Possible and the tweebs, waving, “Hey everyone, Club Banana is paying for lunch today! Come on!”

 

\-----

 

Hannibal and Jarrod just stared as the door to the illuminated tube had slid aside and disgorged a thick bank of purplish fog. Inside, clad in a uniform very much like their own, was a slender teenage girl. She didn’t move in response to the opening of the tube’s door, but as the purple mist cleared from around her, machines and displays clicked to life, showing she was indeed alive.

 

Even though her eyes were hidden by a stylish black mask, there was no mistaking who she was; the lime green of her uniform and that telltale pistachio-colored skin could belong to only one person in the entire world.

 

“Sharon?” Hego whispered uncertainly as he looked at the apparently sleeping girl, who appeared to be about fifteen.

 

“Freaking Clonemaster!” Mego angrily slapped the side of the tube. He couldn’t believe that Miles Warren had actually had the brass cojones to clone their sister. Well, at least he’d never unleashed this thing.

 

The slap, which echoed around the titanium and glass tube, stirred the occupant. She groaned and lifted her hand, rubbing her face for a long moment before opening her eyes and looking out at the two men looking in. Licking her lips, she frowned and started to step out of the coffin-like container. “Gosh, about time you two got here. Clonemaster clocked me on the back of the head when I came out to investigate for Commissioner Gooding.”

 

They two men stared at the girl, a bit dumbfounded. Clonemaster’s creations were generally shambling moaning automata when they were ‘hatched;’ not coherent, speaking individuals… They each started to have a sinking feeling as ‘Sharon’ clambered fully out of the cylinder and blinked her bleary eyes.

 

“Say… you guys look different, and taller. Get new boots? Must be the lighting in here. I swear… what is it with villains and moody lighting? Well come on… we need to go tell Gooding that Clonemaster is trying to replace her with a doppelganger and take over the police force.” ‘Sharon’ was still rubbing her eyes, and finally peeled off the thin black mask to reveal the face of a fifteen year old teen hero. “Man I could use a Coke… we got any in the Go jet?”

 

Finally Hego coughed into his hand and shuffled up to her, clapping a massive hand on her slender adolescent shoulder, “Shego… we um… we need to talk…”

 

Mego nodded, wiping what could be a tear from his eye, but which he would claim was dust from his new apartment/lair. “Yeah… talk…”

 

As they walked back up the corridor towards the elevator, Mego peeled another taped envelope from her back and pocketed it for later reading. What was it with Clonemaster and sticking notes to things?


	2. Memorex

**Upperton, Colorado:**

**Chez Upperton Restaurant**

 

When Monique had said Club Banana was paying for lunch, Kim had just assumed Mo had gotten paid and that they were heading to Cow&Chow (Bueno Nacho Middleton having been destroyed in the invasion) for burgers on her. She hadn’t expected to meet up at Chez Upperton with Mo’s parents, Martin Smarty, and Coco Banana himself.

 

Shego, of course, was a little bit iffy when she saw the bald business man she had twice kidnapped waiting at the table; but with a little prodding from Kim she had been convinced to sit down and order at the finest, and lone surviving, restaurant in the area. Once everyone was seated and introductions had been made, Kim looked curiously, and slightly nervously, from Monique to the VIP’s and back.

 

“So um, not that I’m complainin’ about the high quality nosh, but um… why are we here again?” Ron was already massacring a piece of bread, trying to split and butter it with little success, as he spoke.

 

Monique was about to respond, but Mr. Smarty beat her to the punch in his typical faintly Texan accented speech. “Well Ronald, now that I’ve got things squared away with the Smarty Mart relief program, the Board of Directors and I wanted to be able to do something to thank You and Kim for everything you did to stop those aliens.”

 

“Oui Oui, and since my company is owned by Monsieur Smarty, and I knew Mlle Kim et Mlle Monique, I also wanted to help you all out so much!” Coco was being his usual effusive self, practically bouncing in his seat as he eyed Ron in particular.

 

The redhead sighed heavily… she was really getting tired of turning down rewards. Especially anything as useless as what Martin Smarty or Coco Banana might offer her in the way of gift certificates. She was about to pipe up when Monique finally got a word in edgewise

 

“So after I told the money men here that you’d been refusing rewards right and left and generally being annoyingly selfless, they came up with a way better idea.” Monique had her trademarked _‘Mmmhmm I did that’_ smirk on her face, and Kim didn’t know whether to be relieved or profoundly afraid. “After they promoted me, that is.”

 

Ron blinked a bit, looking amongst the three who were responsible for the lunch. “Promoted? How, the store was destroyed along with the rest of the mall!”

 

“Well, we’re going to rebuild both it and Smarty Mart, of course Ronald. And if you still want it, you’re job will be waiting.”

 

Ron gave his typical Booyah and grinned; while Kim and Shego both rolled their eyes at how he could be so excited at minimum wage. Finally, Kim continued in her investigation of this “help” Mr. Smarty and Coco were offering.

 

“So your promotion?”

 

“You’re looking at the new manager for the Middleton Area, girlfriend!” Monique squealed and practically vibrated in her chair as she flashed her new name badge, one of the fancy gold ones. “_____ and a few of the other store managers decided they’d had enough of Middleton’s particular brand of weirdness and transferred out. So here I am!”

 

“Yes, the youngest area manager in either Club Banana or Smarty Mart history, I might add. We expect fantastic things from Miss LaRey.” Martin seemed fairly proud of the move, and Coco took a break from eyeing Ron to nod in agreement.

 

“After she finishes Business School, of course…” Monique’s mother added rather ruefully, deflating some of the back patting with a word. She resumed beaming proudly herself after a moment, “But we’re very proud of our little girl. Maybe you ought to tell Kim and Ron about your other position?”

 

Ron, who had his mouth now full of bread, blinked a bit, “Wuff ofer posi’un?”

 

“Ron, swallow first, then ask…” Kim chided her boyfriend, rolling her olive eyes slightly.

 

Gulp, “Ohhh, sorry. What other position, Monique?”

 

The African girl chuckled and shook her head, flipping the name badge’s little door open, revealing that it folded into a longer badge with a security barcode. “Glad to see defeating the alien’s and saving the world hasn’t changed you baby boy. But check this… new CB division.”

 

Shego, who was feeling fairly left out of the discussion, leaned in; recognizing a security clearance when she saw it. After a moment examining the transforming nametag, she read aloud for all to hear, “ _Club Banana Combat Fashion Division, Lead Designer._ Okay, so what the heck is that?”

 

“When I learned that Miss LaRey  had designed Kim’s fabulous new mission clothing, I decided maybe I should be looking into more practical designing, yes?” Coco intoned, still eyeing Ron in a rather disturbing manner, “And Monsieur Smarty agreed that it would both be a good marketing decision and a growth market given the destruction those ugly alien’s brought on us all!”

 

Kim eyed Monique archly, because it was something of an open secret that her new mission gear was not, in fact, designed wholly by her friend. It was, in large part, stolen from the Fashionistas by Rufus; and then given to Monique to produce, minus a few modifications she made like the purple stripe and the fingerless gloves. “Okay… so you’re going into the camo set?”

 

“Oh, nothing so passé! We’re talking bold strokes, bright primary colors! And Nomex, lots and lots of Nomex!” the Frenchman continued. “And as our first model… Monsieur Stoppable, oui? That space suit I saw on the television was tres bland! And the black turtle neck? A classic… but overdone.”

 

Before either hero could object, Monique had produced a sketch pad and was rapidly flipping pages. “Check it, GF. I’m thinking red and lots of it. Cause sorry big brother… but that whole blue and blond thing was just not working for you.”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa here!” Kim held up her hands in confusion, shaking her head. “Time out. Not that I’m not flattered, but Wade designs all our gear. I think he’ll be a little put off if we start taking corporate sponsorship.”

 

As if on cue, the Kimmunicator beeped out its four notes, demanding attention. “Not to worry, Kim.” Wade magically appeared on screen, “Your talking to the technical advisor for CBCF. Monique called and asked for the specs on your battle suit and Kimmunicator, and I just had to get in on this.”

 

Again rolling her green eyes, Kim sighed. It seemed she was being conspired against. “Well, I suppose I did go through a lot of ‘Kim-style’ clothes. It might be nice to have a supplier.”

 

Ron, meanwhile, had leaned over and seemed to be talking to his pocket, “Hey Rufus, I’m not sure if this is a Booyah ‘sitch or not… what do you think?”

 

The molerat shrugged his tiny shoulders and shook his head non-comittaly.

 

“I can tell you, Miss Possible. Smarty Mart and Club Banana sold you over two dozen black number 304 turtlenecks, fifteen pairs of khaki model 973 cargo pants, and more tennis shoes than our inventory system can keep track of.” Martin smarty spoke up, reading from a file folder.

 

They were all interrupted as Kim spoke up. “Okay okay okay… I’ll accept, on one condition… Shego gets clothes too.”

 

“Now hold on just a second Princess… Not that I don’t jump at my just compensation… but I have a look to maintain here.”

 

“Yeah, please Shego,” Kim smirked wryly and shook her head, “You’ve been wearing your old Team Go uniform since how long? That look is so played out. Besides… you had just as big a part in saving the world as anyone, and I think you ought to be included on this... Unless you’re following Dr. Drakken back into super-villainy?”

 

Across the table, Coco held up his hands, making a square out of his fingers and framing the emerald woman, “Ah… I can see it now… flashy… bold! Lots of skin! Oui! I must do this! With Miss LaRey’s help, of course!”

 

Monique, for her part, pursed her lips and watched the dark mercenary woman for a moment, “I’m in… as long as you don’t go all turncoat on us like your boss did…”

 

Rolling her faintly glowing green eyes, Shego sighed as if offended at the mere suggestion, “Are you kidding me? After he got drunk and felt me up during the awards banquet at the Kennedy Center? He can go shoot his blue, poppy loving ass out of…”

 

Kim held up a hand, chuckling softly and shaking her head, “Okay, I take that as a ‘No, you’re not turning to evil again.’” She sighed dramatically, pretending to be reluctant and suspicious, “Well… I suppose I can’t say no at this point.”

 

“Can I?” Shego and Ron both intoned in unison.

 

_\-----_

 

**Go City, Illinois:**

**GO Tower on île des Mouettes:**

 

“Cripes! What the heck are we going to do?! They can’t both be Sharon!” Mego whined for perhaps the fifth time in an hour.

 

“Of course they can’t be… But the tower’s computer says she is Sharon.” Proclaimed Hego, also for the fifth time that afternoon, as thought that was all the answer that was needed. This time, however, he added, “She has none of the usual telltales that any of CloneMaster’s other clones ever had.”

 

“Neither did Shego when we rescued her the last time, either. You know, the Shego who just won all kinds of awards for saving the Earth?” The purple Sullivan brother collapsed back onto the couch in the Status Briefing Center, groaning at the circular logic of it all.

 

There was one thing they could agree on. Miles Warren, AKA the CloneMaster, had a very insidious shtick. He made clones, obviously. He didn’t do it because he thought he could better mankind, or because he wanted to take over the Earth, or even to resurrect a dead loved-one. He was a little too forgetful for that level of deep planning. No, Miles made clones just to make clones; or occasionally when he needed muscle to help him rob a bank or science warehouse or museum. He thought it was interesting, or he was bored, or something… whatever reasons he had, no one was ever clear on.

 

In fact, this was not the first time he had even tried to clone Team Go; it was at least the third. This was why Hannibal had had such elaborate scanners installed in the Tower. The previous two attempts, though, had been disastrously bad by super-villainy standards. The first batch of the Sullivan Sibling’s duplicates had been just that, siblings; Normal looking people with no super-powers or abilities whatsoever. They colored their skin and hair to imitate the real Team Go. They also expired after about three weeks due to an instability in the process.

 

The second batch was slightly better… but their coloring was way off. Shego had come out pink, Mego cerulean, and the twins some shade of brown. Their powers were similarly warped, and they too had conked out in a short manner of time.

 

Still, even when CloneMaster managed to make near-exact copies of someone, there were always telltales to identify them as clones. His first batch or two had been easily melted away by dousing them in Coca-Cola, which was where Sharon had developed her undying taste for the stuff. The next attempts wore turtlenecks, owing to the fact that their navels were on the backs of their necks, and not their bellies. Still others had tattoos on various parts of their bodies, odd scars, or the like. Several displayed marked genetic drift or damage in DNA scans. A few even had tiny plastic dots implanted inside their eyelids denoting them as a clone, and which generation of clone.

 

All had a few common traits however. They emerged not as full individuals, but as shambling husks, requiring training or programming of some sort before they could imitate their chosen original, or to carry out whatever task was desired of them. Likewise, all were unflinchingly loyal to Warren, even when presented with what an evil sort he was. And finally, they all had fairly short life spans, ranging from a few days to a few months.

 

The Sharon Sullivan they had rescued over eleven years ago had shown none of these signs when they pulled her out of a tube at one of CloneMaster’s lairs during his plot to replace the Police Commissioner. Unfortunately, neither did the Sharon Sullivan they had pulled out of another tube this morning. She even remembered the same mission. Both women seemed to be one-hundred percent Shego.

 

“So, fearless leader, what are we going to do?” Jarrod waved his hand in the air irritably and made a particularly sour face.

 

“Well, we can’t tell her… the older one, I mean… She’d kill us all… very painfully.” Hannibal rung his hands a little nervously at the prospect of his sister’s wrath if she learned there was a copy of her; and worse, that she may very well be the copy. Shego had an almost pathological loathing of all things clone, including the last Star Wars movie, and it was all owed to their various run-ins with CloneMaster.

 

Mego winced and nodded quickly in agreement. Shego may not be the strongest among them, but she was definitely the fastest, and had the most destructive power. Over the years, her quick whit had evolved to include a just-as-quick temper, which both the men had the scars to back up. “Yeah, let’s not tell her till we absolutely have to. She’ll kick out asses; or worse, send Kim, Ron, and Rufus to do it first, and then bat in the cleanup slot herself.”

 

“But they’re Heroes! They would never stoop to something so base as vengeance!” Hego raised his hand to add emphasis to his declaration. Mego simply groaned and rolled his eyes.

 

\-----

 

Upstairs in her room, Sharon was trying to drown out her sense of shock the best way she knew how, with television. Hego seemed to have upgraded the cable packed, or whatever Dish Network was, because she now had over two hundred channels to help with the task. She still couldn’t believe nearly 12 years had passed. Everything seemed pretty much the same, as she flipped channels. Some little differences of course, like what the heck was a Blog anyways and WTF was eBay, and who was this Simon Cowel guy everyone seemed so afraid of? Where was Netscape at? That was her bible… now it was IE or something called a Firefox. She barely understood some of the new computer speed raitings. What was a Gigabyte, where were the floppy disks, and why did it matter if she used B, G, or N? Again, what the heck was a blog, and why was she supposed to have one; and who cared if she could access it from something called an izunepodphone with Vista and OSX? That was what her Go-municator was for; it looked like an izunepodphone anyways.

 

But mostly, everything seemed the same. Cell phones were a lot smaller and more colorful, but so what? Bill Gates still ran the known universe, and Politicians still sucked on all levels. As she scanned the news and educational channels she started picking stuff up. The “Contract with America” had bombed, it seemed, and now everyone hated Republicans. Big surprise there. Hot-button stuff like NAFTA and Oklahoma City were pretty much non-issues now, in the light of something called 9/11. She’d have to look that one up if she didn’t find a TV show about it soon.

 

OJ was still in the news… she wondered how in the heck he had escaped conviction, which had apparently happened while she was “in the tube.” The US was still the only super-power, but apparently China and India, of all places, were on the move now. Huh. Well, half her stuff came from Taiwan… so it sort of made sense. There was apparently a new Pope, a New Bond, a new Star Trek and three new Star Wars… and fourteen new kinds of coffee that cost $5 each at a place called Starbucks. Hmmm, three new kinds of Coke… that sounded promising at least!

 

IED… didn’t she learn about that in health class? Sounded painful either way. War… Now there was another constant, except now it involved aliens. Illegal aliens or space ones, she wasn’t sure… they kept talking about both.

 

It was on the subject of the latter where things started getting interesting. World saved by Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Doctor Drew Lipsky… and Shego? “What the Heck?! Um… no I didn’t!”

 

Sharon paused when she caught the headline on something called Fox News. “Fair and balanced my butt! I wasn’t there! How is that fair or balanced!?”

 

Taking a deep breath and restraining the urge to hurl a flaming remote control into her now very old television, (it hadn’t exactly been new when she’d moved into the tower) Sharon clenched her teeth and looked at the coverage. For the moment, it was showing a redheaded girl who looked a bit older than her; and telling of how she had apparently been aboard the alien mothership, with some ugly guy with a bad mullet and blue skin.

 

“Hmmm, Kim Possible… Didn’t a Dr. Possible build the Go-ship for us? Not that we used it after the one time Electronique jacked that Spy satellite and laser, but yeah… I think so…” the emerald girl latched on to that bit of vague familiarity and nodded. She was a bit jolted by the next image on the TV screen, “Hey! That’s Billy, but when did he go blonde?!”

 

Ron Stoppable, as he was named on the screen, was shown now; accepting his highschool diploma in, of all things, a space suit and jet pack. “Same big ears… same goofy hair cut… Gotta be him… but if this is 2007, he should be like, out of college now or something?”

 

Groaning as the vertigo set in again, Sharon flopped back on her bed and grabbed her hair, tugging it in a fit of frustration. She was loathed to return her eyes and ears to the TV, but it demanded her attention by saying her name. Sitting up reluctantly, she stared at the screen, and was mesmerized by the person presented to her as “Shego.”

 

She stared, fascinated and dumbfounded, at the images flashing on the screen, tuning out the sound because of what she saw. What had her attention was the footage of the older “Shego,” fighting, jumping, running, scaling buildings, and the like; all things she did on a regular basis. This “Shego” definitely could be an older version of herself eleven or twelve years in the future, there was no denying that. Staring down at her own slender adolescent body , clung to by her uniform, and then back at the screen, she grinned in a silly manner, “Yes! I’m finally gonna get boobs!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Pretty short… thanks to CNN .com and InformationPlease .com for year-in-review articles for 1995, the year Shego/Sharon was frozen (both times), to remind me of background on what things would be relevant to her on waking up in 2007. 
> 
> In order to keep things simple as possible from this point forward, I will be referring to ‘young Shego’ as Sharon, and ‘adult Shego’ as Shego. That is, the Shego we all know and love from the series will be Shego, and the girl just freed from the tube will be Sharon. Hopefully this avoids any confusion as the story progresses and we find out who is who


	3. New and Improved

**Middleton, Colorado**

**Possible Suites, Schlitz Carlton Hotel**

“Shego?” Kim knocked on the door to her bathroom, a little concerned that the taller woman had not come out, nor made a sound in some time now. “Everything okay in there?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute Princess. It’s been a little while since I dressed up, ya know?” came the response from the door.

 

Kim was a little nonplussed by the response. Granted , she knew how long it could take a woman such as  Shego or herself to make themselves presentable; but honestly, Shego had already been dressed when she came down to Kim’s suite from her own, forty minutes ago!

 

“What do you mean? You were ‘dressed up’ just three weeks ago at the Kennedy Center.” A pair of olive eyes rolled irritably and she leaned against the desk next to the door to her bathroom, the one Shego was currently monopolizing ahead of their night out with Ron and Monique.

 

“Tsk tsk Pumpkin… You’re what, nineteen now?” again the door spoke back to her.

 

“I will be next month, assuming we ever get out of here… I- Whoa!” Kim’s retort was stopped dead when the door opened and Shego stepped out. At least she thought it was Shego. The woman before her was not the same woman who had gone in forty minutes before wearing a little green dress. _‘who are you and what did you do with the slash-and-burn mercenary who went in there?’_

 

“Then you should know the difference between dressing up and _dressing up_ by now.”

 

If ‘dressed to kill’ was a real term, in Kim’s opinion Shego was prepared for mass murder. The little green dress that Shego had come down wearing had been forgone for a long, deep jade gown that was equal parts evening gown and dancing apparel. It bared her right shoulder and a good amount of the top of her right breast, but not in a manner that could be considered advertising. Her muscular left thigh was also visible, via a daring slit that stopped just short of her hip and opened wider as it descended down to near her ankle. The almost bottomless deep green silk, Kim realized after a moment, was actually watermarked with a Chinese style dragon that ascended from her unslitted right leg to her left shoulder; nicely offsetting the bared portions of her body with the faint design and lending an elegant yet dangerous balance to the cut of the gown.  

 

Shego’s graceful, pale neck was accented by a black chocker that bore what the younger woman could only assume was a real black-jade circlet inlaid with golden Chinese symbols she could not recognize. At the opposite end of her body, beneath the gown’s slightly angled cut hem, were strappy black heels. They did the job of any good set of heals, posing Shego’s leg’s in their most curvaceous state, and probably killing her feet in the process. They also added another three and a half inches to the woman’s stature. _‘like she needs any more freaking height advantage.’_

 

The most striking change in appearance, though, was Shego’s hair. In as long as Kim had know the retired-villaness, she had had gallons? Mountains? Copious amounts of thick, full, wavy hair that typically cascaded to at least her lower back, if not further at times. While it was still admirably long, Shego’s hair now came to about mid-back, and was plated into a straight, glossy, perfect black curtain, including her Egyptian bangs. It was why Kim had momentarily though someone other than her nemesis had emerged from the bathroom.

 

Shego chuckled and let Kim stew in what was obvious jealousy for a long moment before deigning to respond to the shock evident in the redheads eyes, “Oh… I knew I was good… but I never knew I was good enough to catch a devout straighty like Kim Possible under my spell. Close your mouth Pumpkin, you’ll catch flies.”

 

After a moment of stuttering at the transformation, Kim shook her head. She blushed very faintly at Shego’s accusation, but she was used to all manner of jibes from the older woman by now and a shot at her sexuality hardly registered. She pushed past Shego and looked into the bathroom, and then back at the woman and her chic plated coif, “Where the heck did all your hair go?!”

 

The woman smirked and raised her fingers. They ignited in roiling green flame as she made a scissors motion. “Little water, little fire, and viola… Jose Ebert ain’t got nothing on me baby!” Seeing that Kim still didn’t quite get it, she shook her head, causing her newly flattened locks to shimmer, “I keep forgetting you’re too young to remember crimping and flattening irons from the Material Girl era…  Just dampened the hair, pinch it between the fingers of death, and bang… instant erm- bangs. The hair? Burned to nothingness. I’m glad this hotel invests in good vent fans though, or it would stink to high heaven in here right now.”

 

Kim made a face, nodding in agreement. There were few things worse than the stench of burnt hair, “But… why chop it all off?”

 

“Woman’s prerogative… but don’t worry Kimmie, it’ll grow back in a month or so… You wouldn’t believe what I can spend at the salon. Thank you Go Comet.” Shego shook her head, an ambivalent expression on her face for just a second before she turned her eyes on her partner in crime for the night, “Though, gotta say Kimmie, that little black number of yours would really give me a run for the money tonight if you didn’t already have a date.”

 

The redhead did blush more openly at this one. She was not used to putting herself on display like this, and especially not used to being complimented on her body without it immediately being followed by lewd remarks or offers to model, or both. She’d only ever worn this little black number twice, and only once when she was in a proper state of mind, for her and Ron’s anniversary. Tonight she had forgone the faux red jade bangles she had previously worn for simple gold bracelets, and the small emerald teardrop necklace Ron had gotten her on their anniversary. “Um… thanks I guess…”

 

Shego resisted the urge to ruffle Kim’s carefully coifed hair, the cinnabar mane held in place by a set of black lacquered hair sticks. The younger woman just looked so cute and childish with that blush at the moment. “You need to lighten up Kimmie. You look smoking hot, and Ron is going to have a hard time keeping his hands off you. If not, I’m sure you can find any number of very willing people to help you get him jealous enough to try. Myself included.”

 

“Shego!” Kim’s cheeks matched her hair in a mixture of irritation and embarrassment, “First, no touchy my Kimmie… Remember?” she parroted Ron the last time the four of them had gone clubbing a couple of weeks before, “And secondly… um… that kind of makes me uncomfortable, kay?”

 

This time, Shego did ruffle Kim’s hair, very carefully of course, “Sorry Kitten… I can’t help myself. Don’t worry though. You’re way too much like my little sister any more for me to try snogging you. That would be just a bit ewww.”

 

“Sn- snogging?” Kim blinked, batting Shego’s hand away from her carefully made up hair before it was disturbed.

 

“Sucking face? You really need to spend more time in the London rave scene, Princess…” The taller woman shook her head, giving a playfully weary sigh and picking up a tiny black handbag on her way to the door. “Now come on, we’ve got some jaws to drop. Club Speed, here we come!”

 

_-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-_

**Go City, Illinois:**

**GO Tower on île des Mouettes:**

 

“I can’t believe you! You forgot to unplug all of the TV and radio gear from her room? You _know_ that’s standard procedure whenever we think someone is a clone! Cut them off from all outside contact so they won’t know what’s going on and be able to lie better. I never would have forgotten.” Mego was pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

 

Arrayed in front of his larger brother was a pile of wires and electronics he had ripped out of the wall of Sharon’s room when he realized his mistake an hour earlier. He’d realized his mistake about the time he’d heard the loud exclamation of _“I’m finally going to get boobs!”_ which of course, got his attention.

 

Hannibal had almost forgotten all of the years that Shego had complained bitterly about her development, or lack thereof, until that moment. While Hego and Mego had already been well into puberty at the time of the comet impact, and the Wego twins had just been children; Shego had just been coming into womanhood. That ended for her when the Go City Comet fell on their heads. For the next several years, Shego grew taller, but remained essentially a twelve year old girl physically.

 

Insidiex, one of their foes and a puzzle master with a vicious whit, had taken to giving her pet names like “The Boyish Wonder,” and “Go City Flatts” when he learned she played pool; Hego knew these hadn’t helped, and had probably only added to her own evil tendencies and mocking later on.

 

“Look, it’s been years since any insidiousness such as this... I forgot. And no harm done; what could Sharon have learned in twenty minutes?” He held up his massive hands in a placating gesture to his smaller brother. He was once more trying to believe in the altruistic side of life, when reality showed differently.

 

“With two hundred and fifty channels to choose from?! Plenty, twelve years worth of plenty!” Jarrod, as he had when they were still a real team of superheroes, was again acting as the brains of the team. “For instance, she now knows there’s another version of herself running around out there. Lord only knows if she also knows that that other person is alternately a villain or the greatest hero on Earth depending on who you ask.”

 

“A VILLAIN?!” Sharon, who had somehow escaped her locked and now electronically bereft bedroom, was standing that the stairs leading to the Status Briefing Center. A profoundly shocked look graced her young face. “Well, that clinches it! Now we know she’s the clone!”

 

“How did you get out?!” Jarrod wheeled around in shock, running a gloved had through his purple hair.

 

“Um, Hello? It’s _my_ bedroom. I think I know how to unlock the door, doy! Which just further proves I’m not the clone.”

 

Hannibal got between his two more slender siblings, or one sibling and clone, whichever the case may be. He looked down concernedly at Sharon and sighed heavily, shaking his head just a bit, “She said the same thing, sis. And busted out the same way too. I’m sorry, but for the good of the City, the World even, I’ll have to escort you back to your room.”

 

Sharon sighed heavily and turned to walk back down the stairs to her room. Hego was in one of his “modes” again. Hero mode in this case… the greater good… And if he said jump, in one of these modes, she could only ask how high, since there was no way she could physically resist him, or change his mind.

 

She sighed softly. She couldn’t fault her big brother for it. His heart easily outsized his body, but he saw everything in black and white. He made a great motivator for their little team, which was why he was the leader, but his on-off psyche caused moments like this for all of them. In another world, he could have just been a big, soft, slightly disturbing, comic book geek who ran a little niche store in the mall, just like he had always wanted, Before.

 

Hannibal Sullivan had been a tall, over-weight sixteen year old turbo-nerd Before. Comic books, technology magazines, billboard chat lines on Compuserve; these had been his domain. He survived the bullies of Go City Municipal High School #19 well enough, by submerging himself into fantasy; and a world of absolutes where he didn’t have to figure out _why_ people did bad things, only _that_ they did bad things. Then Before ended, and After began.

 

Grumbling and running her fingers through stringy black hair, Sharon watched the door close and knew Hannibal was attaching the giant electronic locking device he had brought downstairs with them. He assured her it was plasma proofed; and even EMP proof, whatever that meant. Apparently this other her, the evil clone, had tested his ability to make her stay put several times.

 

Gadgets had been Hannibal’s other forte Before. It had served them well After. He used their new found public backing to ensure they had any technology they found themselves in need of, including all the darned clone scanning equipment she had been forced to endure earlier today. She had little doubt that Hego’s lock was just as good as he said.

 

As Sharon looked around her room, she sighed. It was hers, but it was also _hers_. Beside her own antiquated TV, was something called a DVD player, which must have belonged to the other. She’d heard of those. Hannibal had been going on and on about them replacing her tapes of 90210 and Melrose Place, except that they couldn’t be recorded over, and cost like fifteen bucks a disc.

 

Likewise, pictures she didn’t remember having taken, right alongside pictures she did know. Missing were a few of her favorites. Most of her stuffed Critterpals were gone as well, just one or two she thought of as the cutest amongst the officially licensed line of toys remained. Flopping at the foot of her bed and sitting up wearily, she decided to try and get comfortable in the altered space.

 

“Being the realist on the team sucks, huh?” Her reflection spoke to her from her dressing mirror. “Why can’t the big blue dork see that I’m the real one? Then again, why would he? After eleven plus years with this other, evil Shego around throwing him off?”

 

“Because he has a city to protect and he’s doing the best he can. There’s no evidence that you are or are not who you say you are. He’d no sooner trust that fifty-fifty shot than he trusts you with those precious dice of his.”

 

The teen nodded to her reflection and grumbled softly, “So who would he trust? Not any of us, that’s for sure… For all he knows, Jarrod is a clone too.”

 

“But he always trusts other Heroes. What about that Kim Probable girl? And her boyfriend, the cutie?”

 

Sharon blushed faintly at the thought. That guy looked a lot like Billy. Well, except that Billy had black hair and slightly slanted eyes… but otherwise… Shaking her head softly, the teen heroine pushed away the embarrassing thoughts and got back on track. “Yeah… Maybe he would! CNN said they just saved the world, why wouldn’t he trust her? Well, he’d probably trust Agent Betty more, but I’ve got no idea where she’s at now… but this Kim girl, she’s in Middleton Colorado… now, how to get there...?”

 

The green teen saw her answer parked right outside her window. Well, outside her window and four stories down. She tested her window to see if it was anywhere near as secure as her door. Nope; unlocked and wide open. Now, as long as hego hadn’t had the entire outside of the building plasma proofed and she could just… Oh wait, already handholds burned in there! Well, her evil clone had at least one ‘good’ idea.

 

She may not be old enough to have a driver’s license, but she sure did have a pilot’s license. So it wasn’t technically breaking the law to fly to Middleton.


	4. Optional Features

**Middleton, Colorado**

**Lobby, Schlitz Carlton Hotel**

 

“Pick your jaw up, doofus.” Shego smirked as she and Kim strode up to Ron and Monique. “I know I’m damned hot, but don’t make a scene, huh? People will think we’re involved… especially your girlfriend.”

 

Kim and Monique laughed softly, because it was clear Shego was not the one Ron was drooling over. As usual, the sight of the infamous little black dress had short circuited Ron’s psyche, and his eyes were following her as she moved as if they were physically connected to her backside. Smiling softly, she patted him on the cheek a few times, and he came back to reality, albeit reluctantly.

 

“Uh-hu… Sorry KP… you know what that dress does to me…” The blond boy rubbed at the back of his neck, his cheeks turning ruddy. “You look spankin’ too Shego, Definitely beats that weird green and black dress you had at the Bermuda Triangle.”

 

“Hey… I’ll have you know that was a Giana Fettuccini original, Stoppable.” The emerald clad woman snorted derisively. “Designed specifically for me, I might add, not stolen or anything.”

 

“Oh! Hehehe… sorry.” Ron looked down, but then back up, because he had forgotten Kim was now standing right in front of him and looking down meant looking down her dress and into her cleavage; which threatened to send him off into lala land again. “…um… can we go now?”

 

Monique nodded her agreement with the sentiment of getting going. She was clad in a stylish pant-suit with a flared collar and bell-bottomed pants, black with crème pinstripes. Add to that her short mule boots and the hat she wore and the ostentatious gold pocket watch, and she had a whole retro zoot-suit look assembled. “Yeah, Club Speed waits for no woman.”

 

Ron was dressed sharply, but conservatively, and obviously with Monique’s help. He wore a silk shirt of blood-red with mother-of-pearl buttons, and black slacks with a black belt and a highly polished gold buckle. Unfortunately, the caramel-colored girl had not been able to get him to forgo sneakers for proper dress shoes, so the whole look was spoiled by his ratty, worn-out white tennis shoes.

 

“Can I drive? Got the new wheels and everything!” He piped up, as if suddenly remembering that important fact.

 

Shego smirked softly, shaking her head and looking amongst her companions, “Well, unless you think three fine women like us are going to pile into Kimmie’s little Roth Coupe in these outfits…? Yeah, we’ll be taking your new Conquistador. I’ll even let you drive.”

 

Ron made a show of over wrought gratitude and submissiveness at the permission to drive them, then shot Kim a look of “you sure you’re ready for this?” before holding the door for the three women. He smiled to each of his three “dates” as they passed, first Monique, then Shego, and finally Kim.

 

There was a tiny squeak from Ron, and he looked down to see Kim’s hand retreating from delivering a pinch to his butt. She grinned at him innocently, “Of course I am… I’m Kim Possible, and I’m ready for anything. By the way, the slacks look great on you; and I love the shoes.”

 

“Booyah!” he smiled his trademark goofy smile, and wondered not for the first time how he’d gotten lucky enough to earn Kim’s love. “Hey Monique! She loves the shoes!”

 

_-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-_

 

**Go-Jet 1**

**Airspace above Middleton Colorado**

 

    Not for the first time this evening, Sharon felt like she was flying over a war zone. First, there’d been the two odd looking jets sent up to “investigate” the Go Jet. She recognized them as those new YF-22’s the Air Force had been experimenting with a few weeks ago- no, almost twelve years ago, she corrected herself. Now it seemed that they were called F-22 Raptors. She never thought that she’d be “encouraged” to drop to a lower altitude over U.S. soil by an armed fighter escort, but apparently this September 11 had changed a lot of things. The recent Alien Invasion obviously hadn’t eased anyone’s fears.

 

That invasion was the reason for the current incarnation of “war zone” she saw when she looked outside the Go Jet’s cockpit. The Raptors had bugged off when they got the Go Jet’s tail number and realized which team of super-heroes it belonged to. One even waved wings at her as they departed. That had been a few hours ago, over Go City; fortunately her brothers didn’t seem to realize she had… procured… the jet yet. Now, the war zone feeling came back, as she looked over what were supposedly the ruins of Middleton Colorado’s main Interstate artery.

 

“So this is what a city looks like after a few… what were they? War Lordian’s? After a few of them come through, huh?” She talked to herself for lack of other things to do at the moment, and looked at the odd triangular craters that the alien things had apparently made when they landed. She remembered the footage of large robotic tanks straight out of H. G. Wells from the brief bit of TV she’d been allowed earlier today.

 

If she’d been thinking, and understood what “googling” was and that the Go Jet now had mobile internet; she’d have spent the time the jet was auto-piloting to Middleton finding out more about “War Lordians” and the invasion and Ron Stoppable and everything else she had questions about. As it was, Sharon had spent most of the time channel surfing radio stations, trying to find any good music… apparently Grunge was dead, much to her chagrin. Country, however, was now huge, along with this Brittina person…

 

That made Sharon shudder. Canned music was not her style, and the half-song of Brittina’s she’d sat through had about rotted her teeth.

 

    Finally she’d found a college rock station that played mostly the music she was used to. Fortunately it had good broadcast strength, so she received it for a good portion of the trip, right up until he had to begin her landing procedures. She sat the Go Jet down in some secluded woodland just outside of Middleton Proper and then sat back.

 

“Ya know, Sharon,” she began to herself. She was checking that the backpack she had grabbed was well enough stocked after stumbling around in only the subdued light of the cockpit for twenty minutes, “You could have done this on the flight over; and have been thinking about how to get into the city and find this Possible girl, not doing it all spur of the moment like some villain escaping a lair.”

 

Sighing wearily to herself, the teen bounded out of the Jet’s cockpit after making sue she’d turned off all the transponders and locators she could think of. As she set out up the road toward Middleton, she sighed again and looked down at herself. She assumed, it being a Friday night, and this girl being just out of highschool, that She’d probably be at a concert or something.

 

“Yeah, and you’re really dressed for moshing, aren’t ya Sharon? Green and black spandex instead of your BUSH teeshirt and jeans. Why don’t ya just wear a sign that says ‘escaped cryo-kiddy, arrest me!’”

 

“Yeah Kid, why don’t ya? It’d make it easier to find your wallet than your little Shego Halloween costume.”

 

“Oh… just great!” the teen heroine groaned ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, setting her laden backpack down at her feet, “As if I didn’t have enough problems.”

 

Three big burlys came out of the woods at the side of the road, trying to look menacing with their baseball bats and knives. Against your basic, average girl they probably would have no trouble getting what they apparently wanted. Of course Sharon Sullivan wasn’t your basic average girl, and this wasn’t her basic average world.

 

“And you don’t even fill it out like the real deal…” One of them grinned lecherously. At least Sharon assumed he grinned lecherously. It was freaking dark on the road and only the rising half moon provided light.

 

“Yeah, but I’ll bet she’s still fun for a ride. And hey, no claws to worry about like with Shego.” Another one added, rubbing his hands together.

 

The teen shuddered at the thought of these three wanting even more from her than a few bucks. She was about to light up and deal with them as quickly as possible when the third of the group said something that caught her attention.

 

“Yeah, that bitch, worked us like rented mules she did! Always strutting around in her spandex like she owned the place instead of Doctor D! I say we take our frustrations out on this little number, huh boys?”

 

Sharon couldn’t believe her luck. Not only had she been held up by three vagrant thugs who wanted to do impure things to her; but they had worked for her evil clone too boot, and had a grudge! “Fine fine… let’s get this over with all ready.”

 

The “fight” was over in ten seconds, if that. All three of them apparently had some ingrained response to green plasma power, because they froze when she lit up, each cupping his crotch or covering his eyes.

 

The first two went down with simple uppercuts to their chins, landing back in the woodland they had emerged from, not able to even groan in pain. That left the one with the odd accent and the “frustrations” to work out. By now, he was still protecting his delicate parts, but had dropped to his knees on the deserted asphalt.

 

“Please! Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry Mistress! We didn’t know t’was really you!”

 

“Mistress?!” she mumbled to herself incredulously. What in the world kind of woman was this evil clone to make grown men call her Mistress? Well, then again, the clone was also a grown woman… so it wasn’t _quite_ as disgusting if she, a fifteen year old girl was doing it… but still!

 

“Oh Supreme One! Please, Forgive us ever doubting you!” the man had given up holding himself and was now actually groveling in the middle of the abandoned road.

 

Sharon tried to keep her eyebrows from shooting up at this second new moniker, and felt glad for the darkness to hide most of her expressions. She decided that if this thug in red was thinking she was some bad-assed evil clone with a dominatrix fetish, she would play along and get some information. Now… What had that thug said already? Something about a Doctor Dee? That must be that blue skinned weirdo she saw on TV earlier.

 

“Where is Doctor Dee? Tell me quickly, or you’ll end up like those buddies of yours.” She put her hands on her hips and tried her best to look imperious.

 

“He’s still in Vienna for all I know, Miss Shego!” the man squeaked out compliantly and quickly. “After ya dumped him at tha’ banquet last month, he fired all o’ us henchmen and flew off!”

 

“Fired you, eh?” Sharon tried not to let the disappointment show in her voice as she eyed the ‘hench-man.’ He was badly over-weight, she realized as he cowered. He’d been sucking it in when they first approached.

 

“Yes Ma’am! He didna take well to your not liking his advances He didn’t! Drunk or not, the Boss still gots pride!”

 

She scowled, but filed this info away for later use. It was a month out of date, as would be most of what she could get from these guys, but the fact that evil clone and this blue man were not involved was important information. Apparently it was a sore spot, with repercussions for these goons and Doctor Dee.

 

“Fine then. Where is Kim Possible?” she asked with authority. Then to add to the theatrical effect, she lit her hand again and made a fist, “You can at least tell me that much, right?”

 

“Eeep! Far as we know, last time she kicked our behinds fer looting, she was still staying at that there hotel Carlton!” the man cowered even lower, if that was possible, at the re-ignition of her hand. “We thought it was you she were travelin’ with, but if’n you’re here! It must be a syntho 902!”

 

Sharon desperately wanted to ask what that was, but she feared she would blow her cover if she did. “Fine Fine… how was this… 902 acting?”

 

“Just like you, Mistress! Cept she was palling around with Possible ‘stead of tryin to defeat her like normal. Maybe the lil girl has a crush on you and stole a 902 to use as a play toy? Wouldn’t surprise me after the way we fecked with her head last time one-”

 

Another plasma punch ended the interrogation right there. Still, it added a lot of confusing information to her inventory of new facts. Apparently her evil clone used to fight with Kim Possible. But now she was on her side? Maybe it was part of a greater evil plot by Clone Master to corrupt a young hero? The alternatives were even more disturbing… Her evil clone leading this girl on was scarier, because it meant that Warren had corrupted the clone with those wrong-headed thoughts she’d finally worked past herself a few months ago. What would that do to her good name as a hero?

 

“I could really use Agent Betty right about now… She’d know what to do here.” Sharon sighed heavily and picked up her bag again. “And I’ve got to stop talking to myself… That’s something Supervillains do. Well, Supervillains and Hego  anyways.”

 

_-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-_

 

**Middleton, Colorado**

**Club Speed**

 

Kim and Ron weren’t exactly sure what they should be feeling or thinking at the moment, but the confusion on their faces must have been obvious to anyone watching them. Kim managed to compose herself, or at least feigned it by thumbing through her hand bag. Ron just gawked.

 

Monique and Shego were walking back from the dance floor, and a sheen of sweat was clearly visible on each of them. In fact, Monique was fanning herself with her hat as they sat down. Club Speed lived up to its name, and the two had just put on quite a show on the dance floor. Not that unusual in itself. Kim knew how well Shego moved from years of experience. Monique was a little more surprising, but not by much given her boisterous nature.

 

What had Ron’s jaw once again dropped and Kim distracting herself with her lipstick was the fact that the two women had been dancing _together_ … closely… the word gyrate came to mind.

 

“Phew! I really forgot how much fun it could be to go dancing with civilians! The Villain’s Mixers got nothing on this.” Shego took a long pull on her drink, putting away most of the long neck before setting the bottle down.

 

“I guess a lot of people got energy and stress to burn off tonight, girlfriend.” Monique smirked and sipped her own drink, a virgin daiquiri.

 

It was embarrassingly true. They’d seen more than one couple, and even trio engaged in more than just dancing this evening. It made Kim a bit uncomfortable, and Ron too, though he was handling it better. Clubs just weren’t the redhead’s scene to begin with.

 

The whole evening was just putting her weird-o-meter to about eight. First, of course, she was immediately recognized, and quietly told that she didn’t need to worry about wearing the bright purple “under 21” bracelets that everyone else who was under age. The same went for Ron when they saw past his slick clothes to the goofey blonde who was always on TV with her; and Monique as she was in their company. Shego was obviously over age, so it wasn’t an issue with her.

 

Kim still didn’t drink, even though she was apparently allowed. Ron had tried one beer with Shego, but decided he too would stick to cokes. Then, of course, there was all the heavy petting going on in the shadows, and other oddities. Even the most nebbish scientists she knew from her dad’s work at the Space Center were here and cutting loose, it seemed.

 

“Well, they’ve got a lot of stress to work off there, mocha bean.” Shego broke Kim from her inventory of weirdness when she spoke up. “Blowed up city, alien invasion, Drakken’s karaoke revival?”

 

The redhead rolled her eyes softly at the memory of that. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but Ron and I had fun. At least till he started ranting and singing.”

 

“You would!” Shego made a playfully sour face as she nipped at her beer a bit more gently, “Live to make me miserable, don’t you Pumpkin?”

 

“So… um… Monique… I didn’t know that…” Ron was trying to form a polite sentence, but his mind was still blown.

 

“Know that what? I could dance?” The glistening girl fanned herself once more and chuckled.

 

“No, that you were… ah… you know…?”

 

Arching a dark brow, Monique seemed a bit confused by Ron’s beyond normal fluster.

 

“Ah, I think he means the dancing, Mo.” Kim chuckled, despite a hint of nervousness in her voice. “With Shego that is.”

 

“Jealous, Stoppable?” Shego smirked wryly, “Don’t be, she doesn’t swing my way any more than Kimmie does.”

 

“I’m Bar-sexual, Ron…” Monique giggled a bit, “We really need to get you a subscription to Urban Dictionary.”

 

“Bar what now?” The blond boy scratched the top of his head confusedly.

 

“It means, Doofus, that she only dances with girls to get guy’s attention. Hell, she’s more like bar-curious than bar-sexual,” Shego laughed softly, finishing her beer and calling for another, “I couldn’t even get one little kiss out of her.”

 

“Bar Curious?” Monique laughed, “I’ll have to remember that one... 2G2BT, Girl!”

 

“Oh no… not ‘nique speak!” Ron whined softly and drowned his sorrows in his coke. “KP, save me!”

 

“What about you, Shego, are you merely ‘bar-curious’?” Kim made a set of air quotes to accompany her statement, but despite the gesture, her words held an air of curiosity.

 

“Why Princess, are you looking to jump ship?” she shot Ron a loaded glance and smirked, “I’m all about equal opportunity. If you’d like to learn more…”

 

As she expected, the taunt earned a blush and glance away from Kim. Shego smirked in triumph.

 

“I kid, I kid… Yes Kitten, for your information, I’m bisexual. Or omni-romantic, or polysensual, or whatever label polite society is using this week.” She snorted and waved her hand just a bit dismissively.

 

Despite her slight discomfort over Shego’s obvious irritation, Kim smiled. Just like the woman she’d fought with for years to be irreverent. “Well, I’ll just stick to calling you Shego. Seems like label enough for yo-,”

 

A bright flash and loud bang interrupted Kim and knocked her against the table. She managed to turn after a moment to see the source of the explosion. The side door of the club had been blown in and lay on the floor. Billowing out of the portal were plumes of multi-colored smoke; red, yellow, green, purple… Beams of light also lanced through and music began playing.

 

Kim groaned as she heard a familiar, annoying voice echo over the din and looked to her companions, “So much for vacation.”

 

“Oooooh!!!! That was FREA—KY!!!!”


	5. Audience Remuneration

**Middleton, Colorado**

**Club Speed**

 

“Oooooh!!!! That was FREA—KY!!!!”

 

“Oh great… Just what I need in my life, a visit from the washout.” Shego groaned, tossing back the last of her longneck irritably.

 

“Maybe she’s just- Waitaminute… You know Adrena Lynne, Shego?” Ron perked up even as he was about to make some other observation.

 

“Unfortunately. You remember Hank Perkins, right? The evil temp?”

 

Nods from Kim and Ron, a blank look from Monique.

 

“He got his evil temp company off the ground with his share of the royalties from the muffin business. She was one of his lot for a while… I know she worked for Dementor and for Jack Hench and finally Frugal Lucre. Lord only knows who else.”

 

“Evil… Temp… Business…?” the fashionable girl blinked in confusion. “I thought Kim was just making up that stuff about evil unions and contract deals.”

 

Shego snorted, “Civilians… they think this stuff all just falls together, huh?”

 

Kim and Ron simply shrugged, rising from their table to deal with the oncoming threat.

 

“Ya know, maybe she’s just here for a drink to?” the blond boy interjected.

 

“With full pyrotechnics and a sound track?” Kim rolled her olive eyes and sighed, “Yeah… and the cake is real, Ron.”

 

“Whoa! KP, you made a gaming reference! And, it was worth considering she might…” Ron whined faintly and then shrugged resignedly, “Ya ready Rufus?”

 

“ _mmhmm mmhmm!”_ came the chipper reply from Ron’s shoulder.

 

“Ron?” Shego blinked confusedly, brought up short for a moment, “Where was he… never mind… I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

 

The hairless rodent blew a raspberry at Shego from his perch, which she returned.

 

“He was in my purse, Miss Go.” Monique quipped by way of explanation. “Rufus is the best wingman, erm wingrat, in the business, you know.”

 

Kim wanted to comment on Shego using her boyfriend’s given name, but something else caught her attention first, “Is her hair… pink?”

 

“Yokohama Pink actually…” Monique piped up from her spot, still seated at the table and making no move to join the other three.

 

Indeed, the former stunt star and evil temp had hair that was about the most shocking pink, even in the subdued lighting of the club. The tone didn’t get any less shocking when the house lights came up at the disturbance. In fact, it took on a cartoonish quality in the full illumination.

 

“Girl’s gonna have some vicious split ends, you know how much bleach it takes to achieve that look?”

 

“Monique, so not the time to be giving fashion tips.” Kim rolled her eyes before focusing on the party crasher. “Ron, you and Shego take out her entourage, I’ll deal with the-,”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa there Cupcake… One… I don’t take orders from you; that requires a paycheck. Two, I’m with the buffoon on this one, let’s see if she’s here to cause trouble or not.” The taller woman looked across the bar.

 

“Kim Possible?! Awwwwe! Way Freaky! Drinks and a show!”

 

“She recognized us? Okay Kitten, I take it back, she’s a lil more attentive than I remember.” Shego shook her head in mild disbelief.

 

“That, or we’re the only ones in kung fu stances in the whole bar and we stick out like sore thumbs…” the redhead smirked back at Shego and motioned with her eyes to the way the three of them were posed.

 

“Hey, I’ll have you know this is Krav Maga, not Kung Fu. Still, you got a point.” She shrugged and watched the pink haired woman, and the three big burly guys who followed her in. “Hey… I know those guys!”

 

“Me too,” came Monique’s voice. She was suddenly standing behind the three heroes. “That one is Tommy Tutone, the other is Buzz Coifure, and the Asian guy is Kim Bishonen. They used to be fashion models!”

 

“Till they got caught lifting for your pals the Fashonistas, Princess.” Shego continued. “Then they went working for… Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“For Hank Perkins. I remember them working at that evil bakery.” Ron completed the update on Lynn and her guys. “Wow, do you think they _all_ washed out?”

 

 Any further discussion was curtailed when Lynn and her boys ascended the stage, sending the band scurrying as the candy-haired woman grabbed the lead mic.

 

**Middleton, Colorado**

**The outskirts of town**

Sharon sat down and peeled off one of her boots, sighing heavily. Inverting it, she got five or six good sized stones out before tugging it back on and repeating the process with the other. The next time she had to go on the lamb, she was definitely getting something smaller than the Go Jet, maybe a hovercraft, which could get closer to the city.

 

Letting out an irritated breath and testing her footing in the newly de-stoned boots, the teen titan stood up again, only to have herself blinded by oncoming headlights. Yelping and leaping, she rolled down into the drainage ditch as a 4x4 rumbled by, apparently filled with young people having too good a time.

 

The green teen watched the lifted truck sway a bit too much on its oversized tires and grit her teeth. The pavement of the interstate wasn’t destroyed in this stretch, so there was no reason for the truck to be junking back and forth like that. This would only end in tears if she didn’t do something.

 

Running quickly after the one broken tail light on the rust bucket, Sharon growled with growing irritation. Apparently hero duties never ended, even when she had more important things to do that chasing down a bunch of big brother’s hooligans. With a leap, she was airborne and headed for the bed of the truck, which she could make out by the glowing cigarette butts of its occupants.

 

She let out a bit of a yelp as she realized that even her above average leaping abilities were going to bring her down short of the truck and into a painful meeting with the asphalt now ten feet below. Almost by reflex, she let out a burst of green energy from both of her hands, giving a bit more altitude to her jump. With a graceful thud, she landed in the bed of the truck as it swerved again. Feeling rusted paint and whatever other detritus filled the box under her boots, she sneered at the two drunk boys behind her.

 

“You know! You almost hit me back there! And from the smells of it, I’m not the only thing you’re going to hit tonight!”

 

Sharon really hated the smell of beer. It reminded her of bad choices, because it always seemed to be thick around the other teens she’d stopped from doing stupid things. The scent was thick even in the open air of the truck bed and it was really pis- erm ticking her off.

 

“Whoa…” was all the drunk boys could manage at her appearance.

 

She pounded on the back glass of the truck, trying to get the driver’s attention. Apparently that was no better at distracting them than the sizable thump of Miss Sullivan landing in the truck bed as it did forty miles an hour down the abandoned interstate. “Hey!!! Stop the freaking truck already!”

 

After a few good pounds with no response, she sighed wearily and shook her head. “Stupid drunk-tards!”

 

Looking down between her feet in the glare from the dome light of the truck, which was on despite the safety hazards that presented as well, she judged where the center line of the truck bed was. She looked one more time into the cab to make sure no one was sitting in the middle, and then hoped that she was aiming right.

 

“I. Said. _Stop_!”

 

A burst of boiling green plasma shot downward, through the joint between the bed and cab of the truck, and just as she’d planned, melted away the back of the truck’s old manual transmission and driveshaft. The rusty 4x4 lurched and coughed as its engine seized. The driver inside the slammed the brakes, but without the power assist from the engine, the braking force was a much gentler stop.

 

Vaulting past the two bed passengers and out of the truck bed, young Shego grabbed the driver’s door and yanked it open. She grabbed the driver himself, un-seatbelted of course, and yanked him out of the cab, green energy still licking at her finger tips.

 

“Are you trying to freaking kill someone! You almost hit me and never slowed down you stupid…!”

 

Taking a deep breath, Sharon settled herself a bit. She extinguished the licks of angry flames at her fingertips and released the inebriated boy, who couldn’t be much older than herself. Shoving him back in to the truck, she growled and wondered how it was Hego hadn’t snapped necks with all the frustrations they put up with. After all, she had just managed to singe the boy’s beer-soaked shirt pretty badly.

 

She heard beeping behind her and scowled, seeing one of the boys in the bed pulling out a small device that glowed next to his face. “Dude! You torched the truck! My dad is so going to have your as- AH!”

 

She had leapt back into the bed of the defunct truck and yanked the thing from his hand. It took her a moment to realize that it was one of the new color screen all-digital cell phones she'd seen on the commercials earlier today. It had several buttons she didn’t recognize, but she still knew how to operate the numbers and that the green button was “send,” even on the smooth touch screen.

 

“Yeah… 911 dispatch? I’ve got four drunk adolescents on interstate seventy at mile marker…” Sharon paused and looked around. She finally saw the marker and grumbled to herself. “Marker 242. Yeah, pickup… old and rusty… Ford I think.”

 

She listened to the dispatcher on the other end and tried to keep her cool as the woman asked her again the question’s she’d just answered. “Name? She-…. Uh Sherry.”

 

She had to remind herself that she didn’t look like the Shego everyone here knew, the one with the C-cups and the hair down-to-there. “Look, could you just come pick these guys up and tell their parents? They darn near killed me! Oh, and there’s some looters running around out here in red jumpers. So you might want to hurry.”

 

She pushed the red end button before she could be questioned further and clapped the phone closed. Tossing it back at the owner, she jumped to the roof of the cab and looked at the boys. “I’d recommend staying with your truck, you just heard me tell them about the guys I ran into earlier. And let this be a lesson, you idiots could have killed yourselves and others tonight! The truck is a small price to pay for your lives.”

 

Igniting her fist, she shook it at them for emphasis, “Got It!?”

 

Rapid, if drunken nods were her assurance that they had, and she leapt to the ground, setting off into the darkness again. This stupid little pickup escapade had carried her two miles in the wrong direction. Worse, now the cops were going to be coming out here, or the sheriff, or someone. She didn’t need her evil clone learning of her presence yet, so she had to both avoid the law and double-time it to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s so short, it’s been sitting on my drive for months. Honestly, I think this is enough to post, even though it’s only half the length of most of my chapters. Trying to further muddle the waters between the two shego’s, as we can see here, Sharon is not quite as goody goody as she seems, and Shego not as mercenary as she appears.


	6. Some Assembly Required

**Middleton, Colorado**

**Club Speed**

Kim grunted as she raised her fists and circled around Adrena Lynn. She hadn't seen the woman in three years, so it was easy to forget some key facts about her. One of those was the fact that while she was a hack, a fraud, and a coward; she was also a stunt-woman, and as such was in fantastic shape.

The way she had sidestepped Kim and then punched her in the shoulder served as a stinging reminder of that. From here forward Kim wasn't going to play as easy with her.

The pink haired woman seemed to be thinking the same thing when she assumed a similar sort of stance, grinning that insane grin of hers and half-giggling, "Well, long time no see Possible. And looky looky, no jet pack for you to thrash about with! Isn't that just fr-eaky?"

The redhead sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, "Like I'd need that old thing to deal with third string trash like you. What's the matter Lynn, temp company cancel your contract?"

The look in the pink haired woman's eyes suddenly hardened and she growled, diving at Kim and swinging like a wild woman. The former cheerleader was shocked by the sudden intensity and had to back pedal as she blocked, grunting and ducking. "Geeze, who peed in your steroids!"

It was true, of course. Shortly after her arrest, Lynn's blood work had shown that not only were her stunts fake, but so was her on-screen energy level. Her blood had been thick with steroids, methamphetamines, synthetic estrogen  _and_  testosterone, and the list went on. It was unsurprising, then, that the then-blonde woman had snapped as badly as she had when Ron had accidentally unmasked her.

"You and that pencil-necked boytoy of yours!" the former stunt star snarled and kept swinging.

As Kim back pedaled and tried to regroup, Shego backflipped over top of the Asian pretty-boy model and grinned wickedly. "Hmmm, who woulda guessed a fashion model could throw down!"

"The last hero who tried to ignore me," Kim Bishonen grinned and swung a high kick at Shego's head.

"Oh, you mean before Drakken downsized you?" Shego grinned right back, ducking under the kick and aiming a punch at the model's groin, only for her fist to meet a cup. "Damn it! You read the Hencho manual?"

"After my face, that's my most important asset…" the model smirked haughtily.

"Yeah, tell me another one…" Shego rolled her eyes and dropped back as he tried to bring his heel down on her head.

"What a shame... we could have such fun together!"

Shego swept suddenly flaming hands downwards, and in a half second had welded his fashionable Giana Fettucini shoe's sole to the floor. Rearing back, she grinned at him, and before he could think to yank his foot out of his heated shoe, or to duck, she had punched him hard in the nose. "Sorry buddy… I got a thing about Asian boys… they  _really_ piss me off!"

Across the stage from Kim and Shego, Ron had been left dealing with Buzz Coiffure and Tommy Tutone, and was not faring well.

"Hey guys!" he ducked, "Can't we talk about this?" he weaved, "I mean, the Bakery," he dodged.

"Yeah, about the bakery," Buzz growled, swinging hard.

"Cholesterol levels, really?" Tommy continued, kicking.

Ron had stumbled back, and as luck would have it, into the drum set of the house band, "Reentry Factor." Tommy's kick at Ron's private parts stuck his foot firmly in the base drum. As Ron fell backwards, he upset the high hat, causing Buzz to break his hand on the cymbals made out of surplus rocket parts.

Popping up from behind the pile of upset rocket-part percussion instruments, he looked around in surprise, and then called out, "Rufus!"

On cue, the molerat appeared on the top of the speaker behind him, perched atop a fire extinguisher. The pin was already pulled, and the two washouts just looked up from their entrapments and groaned. A second later they were sputtering and blinded, and Ron grabbed a snare drum in each hand, and clocked them both.

"Ah Booyah!"

Kim was not fairing so well as her compatriots. The last time she had fought with Adrena Lynn, it had been out doors, with the aide of her jet pack, and playing to Lynn's personality flaws. Now she was in a knockdown drag-out fight in close quarters, and all of the stunt star's advantages were in play. Chemically enhanced as she once again seemed to be, she was hitting almost as hard as Shego.

"And this one is for… Well, I forget what it's for, but take it anyway!" the pink-haired blonde screamed and swung another wild haymaker which Kim had to evade. "Vengeance will be mine!"

Suddenly, Kim saw what might be her salvation from the corner of her eye, and remembered a line from the last Star Tunnel movie Ron had made her watch. Grabbing the ice sculpture of… well Kim wasn't sure what it had originally been meant to represent; Shego's plasma had rendered it rather… phallic though, so probably a Rocket.

"Hey Lynn, Revenge is a dish best served cold!" Whatever the ice sculpture was, she swung it hard at the stunt star, and winced as she heard a crunch, the criminal's hand shattering when it impacted the hard, melting ice in mid-swing.

Even the adrenaline flooding Adrena Lynn's system wasn't enough to entirely dull the pain and shock of her suddenly distorted hand, and she recoiled automatically. Kim took the advantage and dove after her, discarding the fractured remains of the ice block.

With a spin, she back-fisted the pink haired psycho across the cheek, and followed through with a kick that caught Lynn in the ribs. Using the momentum and resistance at her foot, Kim became airborne, and the kick with her other foot caught Lynn again in the side of the head. She landed in a bruised, boneless heap and Kim came down in a three point stance, breathing heavily.

Looking around, she saw that the fight seemed to be over. Ron and Rufus were busy restraining the two guys in the mosh pit area, and Shego was standing, like a big game hunter, with her foot perched atop Kym Bishonen's chest as he groaned. The redhead tried to ignore the fact that Shego seemed to be triumphantly holding an athletic supporter and examining it.

Monique rushed up to the hero and grinned, clasping her hands and pulling Kim to her feet, "Girl that was the most spankin' floor show I ever seen!"

Kim blushed and rubbed the back of her head as she giggled, "Well, we aim to please, I guess."

Shego strutted over, straitening her long green chengosam dress, and grinning. Looking up, she smirked a devilish smirk and leaned over to Kim's left ear, "Your mother know you wear thongs?"

Kim blinked confusedly, the flood of adrenaline, and the split skin on her knuckles momentarily befuddling and distracting her, "that I wear…?"

Looking down at herself, wondering what Shego was on about, and how she knew what Kim was wearing, the redhead yelped loudly and covered her shame. In the chaos of the fight with Adrena Lynn, her little black dress had ridden up to her hips, exposing her undergarments.

Getting control of herself, she yanked the dress back into place and snorted, trying to cover her embarrassment with bravado, "They bind a lot less than normal panties is all."

"Sure they do… And the Doofus wasn't going to get a peek at them either." Shego just continued to grin salaciously.

"Wasn't going to get a peek at what?" Ron asked obliviously as he joined the impromptu group.

Monique laughed and tried to cover, "Kim's new jewely… She has a-,"

_**BLAM BLAM** _

The universe exploded, and so did Monique's shirt as shots rang out.

On reflex, Shego threw Kim and Monique to one side with her right arm. Her left arm erupted in a solid beam of green and black plasma, which lanced across the room in a mixture of fire and laser.

It lasted only a split second, but in that second, it incinerated Adrena Lynne's hand, and reduced the small pistol she was holding to so much molten metal. There were dull pops as the remaining ammunition in the gun detonated, but were contained harmlessly inside the rubbery red steel.

Ron, clouded in a blue fog, spanned the distance between the group and Lynn kicked her in the forehead, even as she screamed in pain. Her scream was instantly cut off as the back of her pink head hit the floor with a loud smack.

"Sunnuvabiscuit!"

"Monique!"

Kim was sorting herself out from the pile when she realized the dark skinned girl atop her was talking as if she were unharmed. "Hold still!"

Flipping them over with her legs, she pinned her friend to the ground, and ripped open the girl's dark pinstripe jacket. Beneath, her shirt was a shredded mess, but, strangely, there was no blood. The redhead clawed it open, sending buttons flying from the crème-colored blouse as she searched for the injury.

She was confronted with a heavy black bra, almost a corset, which held Monique's bosom tightly in place. Under normal circumstances, she would have questioned why her friend needed such restraint for her relatively average cup-size, but Kim was too busy trying to find the bullet hole.

"Get off!" the darker girl grunted and managed to push Kim's probing hands away.

As she sat up, there were two soft plinks. Kim looked down, and gasped. There, sitting on the ground, were the bullets, mushroomed and rolling to a stop.

Kim looked to her friend; confusion, fear, and uncertainty in her green eyes.

Clearing her head from the shock, Monique pulled her suit coat closed over her exposed cleavage. "Oh crap am I glad that worked!"

Looking up, she realized Kim was not in the know. Smirking a little to cover the slight tremble running through her body, she elaborated. "Bullet resistant personal protection undergarments. I call this one the Battle Bra."

Kim groaned and half collapsed forward, resting her head on Monique's shoulder. Then, she sniffed. Past Monique's sweat and perfume, she smelled… something sickening. Looking up, she realized what it was, as she saw Ron rapidly tying his pretty red shirt tightly around the stump which had once been Adrena Lynn's right hand.

Some quick mental math and perfect recall had Kim looking with a mixture of fear and anger at Shego.

Still breathing deeply, and trying to unclench her fist from sheer tension, Shego looked back to Kim. It took her a moment to understand the source of the emotions in the redhead's face. Then she snorted, not in the mood to explain her reflexive actions.

"She tried to kill us. There were at least five more shots in the gun. I stopped her." She ran a slightly shaking hand through her slicked hair and tried to not scream at Kim.

Sirens coming down the street silenced any further discussion, as the overworked MPD finally responded to the first calls of explosions at Club Speed.

**Middleton Colorado**

**Outside Club Speed – several minutes later**

"I'm really sorry officer Hobble!" Kim wrung her hands softly and fidgeted from side to side.

"Miss Possible!" the slightly graying street cop took her shoulders and softly shook her, cutting off her fourth apology in as many minutes, "It's okay, really! We're all glad you and your friends were here. This easily could have turned into a huge hostage situation, with that woman, her explosives, and her gun…"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but listen to the Po-po, Princess. More than three dozen people in there? An insane, hopped up villain with hot lead?" Shego shook her head at the frightening mathematics.

"But Shego! What about Adrena Lynn?"

"What about her?"

"Her hand! Her HANDS!"

"She's lucky it was only her freaking hands! And you broke one of them yourself!"

Officer Hobble inserted himself between the two women, shaking his head, "She's right Kimberly… if it had been a P.D. takedown, Miss Richardson would likely have been shot to death, along with her accomplices. You and Shego and Ron saved lives here tonight, a lot of them."

"Oh no, 5-0… Don't lump me into this. I just didn't want my night spoiled." Shego held up her hands defensively.

"Really?" Hobble's partner, Officer Florez smirked, slipping away her note pad as she joined the group. "So the drunk kids out on Seventy and their story about a green girl stopping their truck was just so you could grab a few cold ones on the way to the club?"

"What are you talking about Lisa?" Kim shook her head slightly at Zita's older sister, "Shego's been with me all evening. We got dressed together, came right here to the club, we haven't been out of town in days in fact."

"Huh…" Florez blinked, "So you didn't melt the transmission of an F 100 out on the interstate about an hour ago?"

"Dude, you cooked a truck? That's so cool since it didn't happen to us!" Ron cheered, and then stopped "Wait a minute, Kim's right, an hour ago we were on our way to the club. The Conquistador's GPS says so and everything."

"Sorry Chiquita, wasn't me." Shego shrugged slightly.

"Well, there have been reports of people dressing like Kim and Ron the last few weeks around the country… maybe they started imitating you too… I haven't seen the tuck, so maybe they just burned up the clutch and made up the story about it being melted."

"Yeah, lookalikes, great…" The mercenary rolled her eyes at the thought of someone copying her look. "Now I'm gonna have to do a PSA about the dangers of super science or imitatable acts or some crap."

"Well," Hobble shook his head at the thought of such an afterschool special and chuckled, "Be that as it may, we're all thankful for the help you did provide here, Miss Go. And don't worry, I don't think anyone will have any legal repurcussions here tonight. Middleton PD knows to look the other way when Miss Possible and Mister Stoppable save the world."

"It's Shego, but thanks. It's nice to know I won't go up on attempted bitch-slaughter charges for saving Mo-mo from the wash-out." Shego gave a shrug and turned to wander off.

"You're serious?" kim looked between the two police officers and then to Shego's retreating form.

"Of course Kim," Florez smiled softly, "It's clearly a case of self-defense, and considering Shego's powers are hardly concealed weapons, I doubt we could make a case if we even wanted to. Don't worry about it. Just go home and try not to think about it, okay?"

"O- okay…" She chewed her lip uncertainly, and then looked to Ron, who was covering his eyes as Rufus safety-pinned Monique's shirt back together. "I guess I could use some sleep after all this. You um… you won't tell my parents about my thong right?"

"What thong?" Hobble scratched his head in confusion.

"Don't worry, Kim, you had your purple bracelet on the whole night. We took it off when the paramedics were checking you over…" Florez winked conspiratorily.

**Go City, Illinois:**

**GO Tower on île des Mouettes:**

" _CODE SHEGO… CODE SHEGO…"_

"Don't you think you ought to tell the computer to stop doing that?" Jarrod whined as he rubbed his hands over his ears, and glared at the TV, which had turned bright green, "I mean, come on! Sis isn't even a villain any more!"

Hannibal looked up, and blinked in surprised, and then nodded. "Yes, I suppose I should. If Sharon is using her powers where a Police Scanner can pick up on it, hopefully it is in alignment with the forces of good."

Shaking his head and shutting off the alarm triggered by the global police scanner, Jarrod "Mego" Sullivan sighed, "Yeah, now, what are we going to do about Sharon any-,"

" _CODE SHEGO… CODE SHEGO…"_

"Darn it Hego! How do you over-ride this thing anyway?" Mego threw the remote at the giant screen as it again turned brilliant green.

But his larger brother was looking at the screen in concern, "It shouldn't do that, little brother. The alert system is programmed not to repeat an alert once it has been confirmed… so this must be a new report."

"Yeah yeah… you probably dropped a line of code or something on the last upgrade. I would never make such an amateur mistake." Mego an a hand through his purple mullet and smirked triumphantly as he moved over to watch Hannibal work at a console.

"Oh no… That can't be right at all…" Hego looked from the smaller screen, to the larger one, and then after a moment to the stairs leading down to the living quarters. "Mego, you did remember to lock Sharon's bedroom window, right?"

"What?" Jarrod squawked indignantly and threw up his hands, "Of course I did! What kind of idiot do… you… Why do you ask?"

"Because the two reports on the Code Shego don't line up, they're almost thirty miles apart, but less than one hour apart." Hego fidgeted with his fingers as he stood up. "Come on!"

Mego followed his big brother to the stairs, a sinking sensation in his gut, "I know I locked her windows, I always do!"

It took the larger of the Sullivan brothers two minutes to remove all the locks on their sister's door, but when they finally opened it, Mego just sighed, "Except that I dusted in here this morning for the first time this month and had to let it air out. Crud."

"Call William and Wallace, we need to-,"

"Already on it fearless leader. Hey Willy, Wally? Got some weird news for you."


	7. 4 - 6 Weeks for Delivery

**Middleton Colorado**

"Where's the doofus, Princess?" Shego was busy with female libations, removing her makeup and de-spraying her hair, as she spoke to Kim from her in-suite bathroom.

"Huhwhatnow?" The redhead looked up, broken from internal considerations, "Oh, um, he went to the hospital with Monique."

"Probably just wants to see some more boob," Shego tossed off, rolling her eyes. "Though I gotta admit, a battle bra is pretty clever if it works as advertised, beats the hell out of those Kevlar and ceramic plate numbers that you can't even remotely conceal."

"Huh?" Kim was once more not focusing on what the older woman was talking about, "Oh, yeah, sure… battle bra."

With a huff, the mercenary leaned out of the bathroom and looked directly at the teenager, "Alright, out with it? What is running through that little cinnamon head of yours? And if you 'huh' me one more time, I'm giving you a hair cut."

To reinforce her words, she held up a hand which was quickly engulfed in green flame.

"H- Erm… I… uh…" Kim looked up, chewing her lip. She realized that Shego was not going to turn away without some kind of answer by the look in her eyes. How was she supposed to voice what was rolling through her mind?

Finally, after a long moment of staring doe-eyed back at Shego, she sighed and rubbed her hands over her face, deciding to just come out and ask. "Shego, why did you stop being a hero? I mean really?"

"You mean my brother's didn't tell you?" The emerald themed woman boggled slightly, certain her sibling's big mouths had run long and loud on the subject. "I mean, you and Ronniekins have spent more time with them in the last nine years or so than I have."

"Ronniekins?" Kim smirked and chuckled softly, eyeing Shego.

"Meh… Miss Go still floats to the surface every now and again when I'm exposed to something as sickeningly sweet as your great romance, Princess."

Kim pondered this, and smiled to herself. Then she shook her head, trying to focus after all the stressing events of the evening had scattered her ability to do so. "Well, to be honest, we only talked about it once, for like a minute. Hego showed us this holographic image thingy of all of you as Team Go, and…"

"…and it showed a meteor smashing a tree house, and all of us standing around heroically?" Shego rolled her eyes and snorted, "Of course he would still have that dumb thing."

"It's probably the only picture of your whole family he has, Shego." She shook her head softly at the terse assessment. "I know it's the only one Ron and I ever saw in Go Tower."

Rolling her eyes, the mercenary woman snorted, "Whatever. So what did big, blue, and brain dead tell you?"

The redhead again chewed her lower lip, and sighed. "He said that the more you fought villainy the more you came to like it."

A hand briefly flared where it gripped the door frame Shego leaned against, but she extinguished it before any scorching took place, "Yeah, he would say something as puerile as that."

"So… is that really… true?"

"Kimmie, do I strike you as a true psychopath?" The older of the two glared at her guest. "Do I honestly act like Drakken, or Dementor, or Electronique?"

"Well you have tied Ron and I to more than one-,"

"Abububu…" Shego cut her off with a shooshing gesture. "Stop and think about that… Do you think I was doing that because I truly enjoyed it, or because I was quite well paid to deal with intruders?"

"Weeeeeeeell…." Kim hedged, squirming slightly where she sat on the foot of the bed. "Maybe?"

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath before sighing, "Okay, maybe there was a little perverse enjoyment in making sure you were incapacitated, but really… Do you even know what the definition of a true psychopathic personality is?"

"A Psychopath is a person who suffers from a severe form of anti-social personality disorder, and is marked by a pathological or clinical inability to properly register the emotions of others and/or the inability to empathize with the emotions or situations of another person." Kim nodded resolutely.

Shego blinked, obviously taken aback by the very concise response. "Well… color me impressed."

"Duh Shego, my mom is a brain surgeon, and I deal with crazies on an almost daily basis. You don't think I'd like to know a little bit about what makes them tick?" Kim rolled her eyes and grinned, "Do  _you_  know what it means?"

Surprised by the superior tone in the redhead's voice, Shego had to take a moment to straighten herself up. Then she began her defense. "Very good. And of course I do, Pumpkin… Remember, I happen to have a degree in the psychological sciences."

Nodding, she continued after studying Kim's reaction to the reminder, "You forgot the most important facet of true psychopathy, though… A deficit in major affective reactions, and unresponsiveness to interpersonal relations. Now tell me, oh daughter of a brain surgeon… Have I ever once struck you as unemotional or incapable of responding to others on a personal basis?"

Kim blanched; because, as lase' faire as Shego could be about life she was definitely someone Kim would throw into the 'passionate' bin when it came to things that excited her. Things like fighting, money, clothing, and her pride and professionalism. And of course, her family.

"O- okay… Well, you might be borderline?"

Shego's response to that sent Kim sprawling off the bed to avoid the low energy plasma bolt aimed at her. "Hey!"

"See? An emotional response to an interpersonal relationship." Shego's initial scowl faded into a smirk after a moment. "And yeah, I may have a few 'psychopathic tendencies,' but considering the crowds we both travel with, I'd say that's more learned behavior than pathological."

Kim sighed, and had to nod in agreement with that, wearily watching the taller woman before replacing herself in her seat on the edge of Shego's bed. "Okay… so… Then why did you stop?"

When she didn't receive a response after a few moments, the redhead sighed. Shego was capable of doing such good, she thought. Tonight was just one example. And not just because she had super powers!

No, Shego had everything Kim thought it took to be a hero; brains, skills, a big enough ego to take the lumps. And she wasn't  _really_ evil, so much as ruthless.  _Mercenary_  even.

"Mercenary."

"…huhwhatnow?"

"Come on Kimmie," Shego groaned, snapping her fingers as she moved across to the bed, sitting down at the head and pulling out her hair brush from the hotel night stand, "Keep up with the group. Mercenary. It's what Hego started calling me. When I got tired of doing what you do just because it was what was expected of me."

"Oh." Kim blinked simply, before shaking her head. "Well, um… that doesn't tell me why you stopped being a Hero."

"God I hate that word." Shego growled. "Kimmie, why do you do what you do? Day in, day out…?"

"Because someone has to." The answer was automatic. When she saw Shego roll her eyes, she chuckled. "Because I can do it. And because I like to help people."

"Not me…" Shego snorted, still brushing her hair out.

"What do you mean? Of course you can do it." Kim frowned, looking at the older woman. "Heck, you're even better equipped to do it than me!"

"Oh no, believe me, I can do it. I proved that when I helped save the world, and in the process my own ass." This time Shego watched as Kim rolled her eyes. She sighed and sat down her hair brush. "Let me tell you a story, Princess. About what happens when things go wrong."

Kim arched a red brow, and turned around on the foot of the bed to watch Shego. She sat up straight and squared her shoulders.

Seeing that Kim was putting on a show of her preparedness to listen, Shego merely muttered under her breath at the display. "Fine. This all happened when I was about sixteen. It was May? No, June. Just after school was out. Aviarius launched an attack bent on taking over control of the City. He had an army of life sized robotic emperor penguins, four feet tall and armed to the teeth. Erm beak."

Shego picked up her brush and began again to comb it through her thinned, straightened hair. Kim was momentarily distracted when she noticed that the dark woman's hair gave off static electric sparks in green, now that it was dry.

"So, we smash Aviarius's staff… Seriously, the guy must have bought like, a truck load of them when he started out… Anyway, we smash his staff and the penguin army is deactivated. Well, Willy and I are horsing around with one of his egg safes-,"

"Egg safes?" Kim blinked, tilting her head to one side.

"Y- yeah… Egg safes, sort of like, a fire safe but, you know, egg shaped." Shego sighed at how stupid that really sounded. "Dork is really devoted to his schtick. So we're tossing this stupid thing around, when it cracks into one of the penguins. I land on my butt trying to catch it, and the penguin lands on my right hand."

Holding it up, Shego examined the appendage as though still seeing the damage. "Shattered eight different bones. I guess the mechanical penguins weighed about three hundred pounds each."

Her eyes refocusing, the dark haired woman looked over to Kim and sighed, "So, off to the hospital with me. Even my regenerative abilities have their limits; and having my hand pulped is apparently one of them. Well, no problems; wonders of modern medicine, a few surgical plates, some splints, a stitch or eleven, and six weeks in a full hand cast, and good as new."

Kim winced in sympathy with the described injury. Finally, she nodded, "So how did that make you stop being a hero?"

"Oh, it didn't, that didn't happen till a few years later. But this? I think this started me realizing I needed to start looking out for myself. You see, a few weeks later, we started getting bills. X-ray, osteopathic medicine, surgical suite, surgical supplies, reconstructive surgery, follow up appointments, dressing changes, consultations…" Shego's smirk became more and more embittered, "Thousands of dollars because of a stupid robotic bird that was a hell of a lot more dangerous than I ever was."

The redhead inclined her head, listening closely, still not really understanding how a broken hand could turn someone to the dark side. Especially when it didn't result in a hook-hand or anything.

"Well, we're just a bunch of teenagers… Hego's the only one with a job even. Well, this happened while we were saving the city, right? They've got like a fund for this sort of thing, don't they?" Shego growled softly, shaking her head. "NO, that's for police officers, firefighters, and EMT's, city employees… and you're none of those Sharon. Sorry. We'll see what we can do, though."

Looking up, she growled softly. "You know what they did? Not jack shit. The City Attorney was afraid of the precedent it might set paying medical bills for 'vigilantes.' Left a sixteen year old girl to pay six thousand dollars in medical bills."

"The hospital wouldn't help out?" Kim blinked, frowning.

"Oh, they set up a payment plan, but yeah… they couldn't afford to write off that kind of work, Go Metropolitan is an inner city hospital." Shego growled again, ripping the brush more firmly through her hair. "Took me almost a year of odd jobs after school and between busts to pay that off. And whenever someone offered to compensate us for saving them or their shit?"

Kim yelped when the hairbrush ignited in Shego's trembling hand, almost falling off the bed as she leaned away from the heat.

"'No Shego, we don't take money for doing what's right.' Hego would say." Shego pantomimed Hego's usual imperious posture as she sneered. "Just two or three of those rewards could have more than paid off having my hand fixed! But no! Every single stinking penny I made had to go to the hospital right up until senior year!"

Taking a deep breath, the mercenary sighed, letting some of her fire go. "Oh, he was livid when he found out that I accepted a hundred dollar bill from the president of Go Savings and Loan that Christmas when I had finally paid off that bill."

Looking up, the raven haired woman smirked darkly. "Kimmie, you do what you do because you like it. And I bet what you like really  _is_  helping; though I have no doubt you also get a perverted little tingle from leaping off of exploding buildings too."

Shaking out her by-now silky hair, Shego sighed. "Me? I did it because it was expected of me. Well, that's not entirely true. Once in a while I did it to save my friends or my family. But that bus-load of nuns and orphans dangling over a cliff? No. I really couldn't give a shit."

Kim frowned, chewing her lower lip softly. After a thoughtful moment, she looked up. "But doesn't that make y-,"

"A psychopath? No Kimmie. It just makes me far less generous than you." Shego read the thought in Kim's eyes before she could give voice to their earlier discussion of definitions, "I have empathy for the nuns and orphans on that bus and what it must feel like to go plunging over that cliff, but not so much that I am going to throw myself under said bus. I'll do it for my friends, but not for strangers."

Chewing her lip firmly, and squirming in her seat, Kim struggled to come up with a rebuttal; to prove to Shego that she really was a hero, but honestly she couldn't think up an argument. A dark little corner of her own brain said that Shego had every right to self-preservation after something like that. The heroine rapidly squelched that line of thinking as selfish.

Finally the redhead sighed and unfolded her legs, sliding off of Shego's bed and shaking her head a bit. "Well for what it's worth, Shego. You were a hero tonight. Ron and I, and apparently even Monique, didn't  _need_  your help, but you did so any way. You're such a good hero, in fact, that people are imitating you. Like that stranger out on the highway earlier that officer Florez mentioned."

Nodding, Kim excused herself from Shego's suite to go back to her own rooms. The older woman watched the door close, before laying back onto her bed, sighing deeply to herself, and doing her best to ignore the feeling the praise from the teen raised in her.

**Middleton Colorado**

"I swear to all that is holy and clean," Sharon muttered darkly as she used her pocket pick to try to get tumble weed seeds out of her hair, "If I ever take notion to ride on the back of an FPS truck again, I'll immolate myself first. Or the truck!"

The teen heroine had finally grown completely exhausted of walking towards Middleton, and was about to give it up and go back to the jet. As providence would have it though, a Federated Parcel Service truck happened to be slowly rumbling its way along the broken interstate, and paused near her hidey hole so that the driver could evaluate his path. The decision was taken quickly, and Sharon had leapt onto the stamped steel loading deck, grabbing the hand holds as the cargo truck started moving once more.

"And these stupid seeds!" the teen growled, her pick again grabbing a traveling burr in her hair. "I swear I am going to burn it off!"

The trip into town had gathered speed once the FPS truck was past the broken sections of interstate and onto local highways and byways. Once that happened, the wind behind the truck became almost unbearable, and Sharon found her head repeatedly yanked back whenever just the right draft would catch her long hair and tug it into the slipstream. Twice the wind was strong enough at highway speeds to almost yank her off the back of the truck. Sometimes she thought that Carolyn chick in the Fanclub had the right idea, cut her hair nice and short when she was doing daring deeds.

Then again, Sharon wasn't blonde.

Muttering, and finally giving up the effort with her hair, the teen looked around the deserted section of town she had entered. It was after midnight, and there was a curfew of some kind in effect, so aside from the occasional National Guard personnel, she wasn't going to run into anyone. And as she saw herself in the plate glass window of a construction site for something called Bueno Nacho she certainly hoped that was the case. Even in the dark and under her mask, she could make out bags under her eyes, and her long hair was thoroughly matted with all those tumble weed seeds she had utterly failed to get out.

"Stupid desert climate." With a grunt she threw down her hands in frustration and turned, beginning to walk down the street in silence.

She had made it a few blocks when she heard hushed conversation. Given that there were no search lights, and they were too deep to be kids voices, she quickly ruled out gang bangers and the Guard soldiers. Moving to one corner of an alley way, and thanking goodness for the light of the moon, Sharon looked into the passage between the buildings. She couldn't believe her luck, or lack thereof.

It was the same set of dinghy red thugs from earlier that evening. They were trying to break into the building she was standing next to. Leaning back, she looked up at the sign. "Henchco Industries?"

Sharon shook her head. She had never heard of it, but it certainly didn't sound like a grocery store or a bank. And with no windows, she doubted that it was anything other than some call center or office complex. What could these chumps want here if not food or money?

Her answer came a few moments later when the sound of blaster fire erupted from inside. She was sure the red suits had not had blasters on going in, unless the future had really tiny freaking blasters that they had not wanted to use on her out in the country hours before for some reason. She shook her head at that confusing train of thought and grumbled.

Clearly there were blasters inside that they had gone in to steal, and whoever owned them was fighting back. The question was; should she go in as this mysterious evil supreme Shego, or as herself?

The question was answered for her when some grey suit-wearing business types came tumbling out the door right at her. She squared her shoulders, and in her best heroic voice, assured them that things were under control, before diving into the building the grown men were fleeing.


	8. With Separate Shipping and Handling

**Middleton, Colorado;**

**Henchco Industries Warehouse**

 

Shego had no luck sleeping that evening. Part of it was the usual sort of grumliness she got when dealing with teenagers. They all had a certain self-righteous and self-centered streak to them. The mercenary ought to know… not only did she have a degree in childhood development, but she had once been one herself.

 

Not that the teen in question had said anything incendiary or anything, her arguments had actually been measured and well-articulated, but they still rubbed the fire-woman the wrong way.

 

The other reason was that she always had problems sleeping on nights like this. It had been a long while since she had needed to maim anyone in the course of her duties. Because, as she’d told Possible, she was not a psychopath. She did empathize.

 

 The stench of charred flesh still seemed to cling to the inside of her nose after three thorough irrigations with saline and a long shower. So she had two courses of action left to her… run a firehose up her face to try to drive off the probably psychosomatic smell, or walk it off.

 

Which was how the star-powered woman found herself walking the streets of the ruined industrial district of Middleton somewhere south of midnight. She was about to turn a corner when she paused. There was a certain electricity in the air which she recognized.

 

Most experienced folks would chalk it up to the ionization of a Henchco PowerPol, or the pop pop of a blaster pistol. But Shego knew the flavours of energy. After all, she was 5% energy by volume, as she liked to say. And this flavour was utterly unique on Earth.

 

“But… That’s not possible.” She frowned, following the tingle crawling her skin. “There’s only one Green Dragoness around, and I look her in the mirror every morning…”

 

Soon she had come to the root of the sensation. “Henchco… Why am I not surprised…?”

 

Indeed she could now feel the tingling of more traditional sources like the blue PowerPol’s she could see flashing back and forth within.

 

Rolling her head on her shoulders and swinging her arms, she sighed, “Well, maybe a good old fashioned throwdown is just what I need to get the nastiness out of my head.”

 

She laid a hand on the knob to the open door, only to be bowled into by three redsuited former off-brand henchmen, Drakken’s slovenly brand.

 

“Run away! The wee bit is a hellion!”

 

“Ack! It burns it burns!”

 

“Every henchman for himself!”

 

She slammed them all to the ground with a sweep of her arms, scowling darkly, “I know that Kimmie told you fuckwhits to get out of town and stay out… Well guess what, She’s not around to hold me back tonight… and you got me in a particularly BAD mood.”

 

“Oh great,” the accented leader groaned, looking up at the woman standing in the nocturnal gloom before them, “Out o’ the fire and into the syntho-forge.”

 

“Synth- Oh you worthless little… THAT’S IT!” She bellowed and flared her hands brightly enough to illuminate the entire alleyway around them. “If you thought Drakken’s little vine whippings were bad, just what do you think you’re going to get from me for calling me a synthodrone?!”

 

She was about to barbque the trio when her skin tingled again. Her eyes shot up and scanned around as the flames literally dripped from her fingertips. She felt the tingle and shiver of her skin roll in a pulse two or three more times, and tried to stare into the gloom inside the warehouse to seek its source.

 

When that proved no use past the light of her rage-induced flames, she refocused her attentions on her would-be assailants, “Alright, if you three value the ability to respire, you will tell me what the fuck you were running from.”

 

“Respire?” The thick lead boggled, scratching his hooded head, “Whots that then?”

 

“She growled darkly and if anything, increased the intensity of the fireblooms at the ends of her arms, “It means to breathe, which you three won’t be doing if I don’t get answers before I count that high. ONE.”

 

“So- Some kind ‘o’ Improved Synthodrone… Looks like a kiddly version of you!” the leader of the band of looters cowered, “Even shoots fire out’n its hands!”

 

“NOTHING,” She clarified dangerously, smelling asphalt melting at her feet as her plasma dripped like a tangible thing, “Burns like I do. Try Again.”

 

Her demands, however, were cut off by the whoop-whoop of police sirens pulling up. The sirens, though, were not connected to a police car, but to a big military truck. The National Guard peace keeping force had apparently finally been attracted by the weapons fire.

 

“Last Chance… you can explain it to me, or you can explain it to them… at GitMo, since you know how they feel about looters.” She glowered at the three before her, their pallors washed out under the light of her ethereal green flame.

 

The group of ex hunches apparently were willing to take their chances with the guard troops and their 40mm grenade launchers. They said nothing but continued to cower on the steps of Henchco.

 

“Fiiiine,” She sneered disgustedly, and allowed her hands to slowly dim down as the troopers approached, “These three are looters, Kimmie busted them a few weeks back, but apparently SOMEBODY didn’t bother to hold onto them… so here I find them breaking into a building.”

 

She turned her glare on one of the helmeted figures with unvarnished disgust, “Now I would hate to have to report back to the local base commander, or worse, the local teen heroine with a redheaded temper, that jobs were not being done properly. Especially since you know how redheaded tempers can be and how strung out she already is. Do I Make Myself Clear?”

 

The team leader appeared about ready to challenge her on one, or all, of those statements, when his second apparently thought better of it, pointing to the still-smoking spots on the asphalt, “Let it go man… she’s above our pay grade anyway.”

 

Shego watched them bundle off the three washed up henchmen, hopefully for good this time, and then turned back to the Henchco Industries building. The fait taste to the air was still there… wafting towards her from within the building.

 

But it was fainter now, more an afterglow than what she had sensed before. She was tempted to follow it inside… but honestly, she didn’t really want to try the guys with the big guns and the APC who were still watching her, bravado or not. At least, not five on one, in a narrow alley way, when she was mentally not at her best.

 

Oh she would still win… but not without more maiming because she was off-game at the moment.

 

“Fuck it,” she huffed, turning in the other direction, starting back for the Carlton. “I swear, if I find out Drakken really DID build a syntho of me to scratch his damned drunken dreams…”

 

**_-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-_ **

 

Inside, Sharon felt like her skin was crawling. At first she chalked it up to the fact that it had turned out to be the same three thugs she had dealt with earlier, the ones who wanted to do unpleasant things to her. But she quickly put the fear of Shego into them, stopping them from seizing something which had turned out to be a fanciful pole weapon which shot energy from one end.

 

Then, on battling the employees of this Henchco plac, who were using the same staffs, and wearing similar uniforms to the thugs, but in a different color, Sharon assumed it was the poles themselves. They gave a light blue flare, flecked with darker spots, visually very similar to the Go Glow. But when one of them nearly took her head off, she felt it pass close enough to determine that the energy was entirely different to the glow.

 

“You guys know I’m one of the good guys, right?” She continued to duck and weave. These fellas were good. Professionally trained maybe?

 

Then she realized, why would they think she was a good guy? Her evil clone had been the ostensible owner of her face for the last twelve years, and had been muddying it up pretty good.

 

Suddenly a fourth grey suited guard came rushing in, hollering, “Mistah Hench says let her go!”

 

“Mister Hench?” She wondered aloud.

 

She remembered a Jackie Hench trying to run some kind of weapons deals out of Go City once… Team Go played heck trying to get him, because he had permits and loopholes for everything; but he had high tailed it out when his warehouse melted down due to an unstable weapons prototype he had been trying to sell. Was Henchco Industries…

 

“Henchmen, Stand Down.” Barked the ostensible leader of the guards, the one with three purple stripes on his sleeves.

 

A moment later, a hologram blossomed on a wall. Well, it had to be a hologram right? Who else could get an image that flat and that big on a wall she knew to be no more than 8 inches thick? The hologram began to speak to her, and yup, it looked to be an older Quick Jackie Hench.

 

“Shego…” he paused, the illumination of the holo bringing Sharon into sharp relief on the floor of his building, “Or… not? Wait a minute? Who are you?”

 

“Quick Jackie Hench,” She also tilted her head. He looked different. He had a very nice suit on, and his hair had distinguished grey streaks in it now. Hardly the fast-talking gun runner she remembered. “I take it these guys are yours?”

 

“Quick Ja-,” the man on the display arched a brow. He frowned as he studied her, “I haven’t been called that in a long time. And you don’t even look old enough to know the name. Still… I’m told you stopped some of Drakken’s knock-off goons from stealing my goods.  I owe you my thanks. Can’t say much for the off-rack Shego disguise though.”

 

Sharon huffed at the insult from the man she remembered wearing Hawaiian shirts and operating out of the back of a wood-paneled station wagon. As if he had room to talk about looks, “I prefer to think I look much more like the original, Jackie… I can’t have changed that much from when I popped all five tires on that STD-POS you drive around, right?”

 

“Are you… no, no way. I would have heard if Shego had a daughter, especially since, if you are as old as you look, she would have had her at like 13…” He frowned on screen, clearly trying to comprehend what was going on in his warehouse, “But how else would you know that particular…”

 

“Your guess, currently, is as good as mine, Jackie.” She rolled her eyes, peeling her mask off as it was obvious that the boss, at least knew who she was. Or strongly suspected something. “But tell you what. I just ran off a bunch of thieves from what, I’m guessing, is your legally owned building and inventory… So, how about a bit of tit-for-tat.”

 

“I happen to be supplying the Middleton Militia as well as the Colorado national Guard,” the arms dealer huffed with his usual affrontery, “Have to make ends meet since most of my usual clientel have gone to ground. So yes, everything you see is on the up-and-up. And yes, I suppose I owe you one, whoever you are. How about a 10, no a 15% off coupon?”

 

She almost felt her jaw hit the floor. He was offering her a discount? As if she would buy anything from him? Casting her eyes to one side, she wondered just what the heck an ‘Attitudinator’ even was. It sure didn’t look like a weapon, so much as a hair styler with a Hencho H on it.

 

“Erm, no, I don’t need any supplies at the moment… how about some intel?” she hedged, watching the flat hologram on the wall. Or… maybe it was really some kind of super-flat TV after all? It didn’t seem to be very 3d for a hologram now that she had watched it for a few moments.

 

“Well, I’m not sure what information you think I could possibly have…” he suddenly got a very familiar shifty look in his eyes, different from the way he had presented himself a moment ago. Now THAT was classic Quick Jackie Hench; evasive.

 

“Listen, hustler… I got some stories I could tell these guys here about the man they’re working for…” she smirked, rubbing her face around the mask’s remaining adhesive, “Like the one about the time you got that orange maui shirt melted to the pulse rifle and neatly shot your own foot off. So answer a few questions, or maybe pay a few severance packages…”

 

“Oh! Nononono! I think I can at least try to answer!” he held up his hands suddenly. “So um, what do you want to know?”

 

“Clearly you were expecting someone older. I want a file on everything you have on the Shego you were expecting to see when you turned on this big display thingy. Email it to…” She was pleased to see that AOL still offered free email aliases when she opened it on her Gomunicator, even if it did take forever to render on the device. “YouGoGirl1980atAOL.com. Also… if you have any of these grey suits laying around, I’ll take one in a size two petite. Make those two things happen and I’ll be out of your building and your hair and your underlings,”

 

“Henchmen,” he corrected irritably.

 

“Really? You trademarked it?”

 

He shrugged casually, “Where do you think the rent for these buildings comes from? Licensing fees are a real growth industry.”

 

“Whatever,” She made a W with her fingers and huffed, “That’s what I want for your gratitude and my silence about the time you and Ella Tesla were stuck in the-,”

 

“Done!” he held up his hands nervously, “Boys, find her a change of clothes, some boots, gloves, a helmet, and a PowerPol in her size.”

 

Then he refocused his attentions on Sharon, “I don’t know who you really are, but a word of warning as part of your intel package; Lipsky, Drakken, whatever he’s calling himself this week, won’t be happy to learn there’s two of you running around. And last I heard, he was renewing his lease on the time-share in Lowerton, according to my guys in logistics.”

 

“Don’t worry, I plan on handling the duality situation ASAP,” She huffed, running a hand through her hair.

 

As soon as the display screen or holo or whatever cut out, the grey-suited guys busied themselves with ransacking the warehouse for her clothes. Sharon wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do with the uniform yet, but having a disguise option never hurt. And frankly, she was beginning to realize her circa 1995 wardrobe in the Ren Höek “You EEEEEEdiot!” backpack back at the Go Jet was probably not going to work unless it was retro chic.

 

**Henchco Industries Headquarters**

**Location Protected by Non-Disclosure Agreement**

“Deede,” Jack Hench sneered as he cut off the transmission to his Middleton Warehouse, “Get me the contact information for Lipsky’s rent-a-lair in Lowerton… And his phone number. I think I have something to sell him for that Nobel Prize Money he has sitting around.”

 

**Go City, Illinois:**

**GO Tower on île des Mouettes:**

“And that’s where we are now,” Mego informed his twin brothers as they sat around the Team Go table.

 

“So you’re telling us,” William, Wego1, scratched his head curiously, “That there’s a very good chance that we rescued the wrong Sis twelve years ago?”

 

“And that the real big sis,” Wallace, Wego2, held up a hand for clarification, “Is now little sis because she’s fifteen years old, relatively speaking.”

 

“Um…… Yes?” Hego worried his massive hands in his lap. “We… didn’t want to get you worked up if it turned out to be just another leftover clone but now we’re in this mess.”

 

The twin young men looked at each other, and then grinned, “Cooool!”

 

“Well, I thought that would be a lot harder,” Jarred Mego Sullivan shrugged. “The problem is, she took the Jet, and right now she’s in Colorado, either hunting the other Shego, or maybe trying to get help From Kim Possible, I’m not sure which.”

 

“Why can’t it be both?” Wallace pointed out.

 

“Yeah, Sis was always about using all her resources to the best advantage,” William nodded enthusiastically.

 

“So if she thinks Kim Possible can help her fight an evil clone, she’d probably do both at the same time!”

 

“But Isn’t Shego like Kim Possible’s best friend now? They’ve been hanging around for weeks now. And then there’s those tabloid rumors about Ron being, what did they call him, a moustache?”

 

“I think it was a goatee? No a Beard!”

 

The two continued to speculate as Hector and Jarred looked at each other. The last thing either wanted was some kind of superhero war between Kim Possible and Shego and Shego and Team Go.

 

“Bigger Question than all of those,” Hector frowned as he tapped a massive index finger listlessly on the table, “How do we get to Colorado without a jet?”

 

“Agent Betty, Doy!” Wallace instantly insisted.

 

“Yeah, Who else could talk Sis down from doing something stupid? Besides, She’s like the Director now or some junk, right?” William continued the thought, “She can get us one of those hover jets!”

 

“Oh, but what if Billy insists on coming along?” Wallace frowned at the logical conclusion.

 

“Yeah, they didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, and you know how Sis can be about holding a grudge…”

 

“But it’s been ten years!”

 

“Yeah, and she still won’t talk to me ten years later either, even if she is the evil clone, which I’m still not entirely sure on,” Mego interrupted the spitballing ginger twins. “But you’re right, Agent Betty… I mean Doctor Director… Is probably our best bet for the moment. I just hope she doesn’t mind getting woken up at 2 am.”

 

**_-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Wow, so I’m back with more of this after… infinitely too long. Moving the plot forward finally as well.   
> Please feel free to chew me out in the reviews for any missed story threads or your complaints on how badly this has changed in the last 9 years. Reviews = Love and Resharing is Caring


	9. Chapter 9" Act Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Possible and all related material ©Walt Disney Company 2002-2007. See top of part 1 for full disclosure. The story of the two Shegoes and cloning and hijinks.  
> "But Wait… There's More!"  
> Pt 9 “Act Quickly,”  
> By: Eoraptor
> 
> -KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-KP-

**Middleton, Colorado;**

**Schlitz Carlton Hotel**

“Wow Ron,” Kim looked up, seeing her best friend, partner, and boyfriend stumbling into her rooms, “You look thrashed.”

 

The response was an utterly non-verbal mumble as Ron moved past where she lay and unceremoniously flopped onto the other side of her bed.

 

“Huhwhatnow?” Kim rolled over to face him, tilting her head on her pillow.

 

“I said,” he muttered into the pillow, “I’m getting too old for this stuff.”

 

The redhead did her best not to giggle at her eighteen year old lifemate, containing herself to a smirk, “I don’t notice any gray hair yet.”

 

He didn’t complain as she caressed her fingernails through his hair and over his scalp, but his expression showed what he thought of the dig, “Seriously, Mo wouldn’t let me leave last night, KP. She just kept talking and talking and talking…”

 

“Awwwe, and her in her bra didn’t make up for that?” the heroine giggled finally and leaned over enough to kiss his forehead.

 

“Huh?” the blond boy blinked confusedly. “They gave her a shirt from the red cross once we got to the ER, KP, Why?”

 

She shook her head, laughing, “Oh, nothing, just something Shego said. But I’m glad my boyfriend isn’t spending his rescue missions checking out other girls.”

 

Ron gave a tired smile and snuggled closer to Kim, “Trust me, Kim, you’re more than enough for me in any department.”

 

Smiling as well, Kim folded her arms around her boyfriend, “Good. Now, aren’t you glad you ended up with me at J-prom, and not Monique?”

 

“Why would I end up with…” the blond boy blinked at his girlfriend and frowned confusedly.

 

“Oh, just some of the rumors I’ve been hearing lately is all,” Kim sighed dramatically, squeezing Ron on the hotel bed, “Heck, there’s people out there who think I’m secretly dating Shego and you’re my lesbian cover story. At least, that’s what Wade says about things on the internet.”

 

“Ewww! KP,” Ron made a face and squirmed, “Don’t even joke! I mean, I almost sorta like Shego, but that’s beyond wrongsick, it’s like…”

 

The redhead giggled and silenced his complaint with a peck on the lips, “I know. But let’s not think about what silly internet people think about us. I’ve got you and you’ve got me and that’s all that matters.”

 

There came a knock at the door and the redhead frowned, turning her head to see it out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Room service.” Came the call.

 

The heroine knew that the hotel did not offer room service right now, given the state of emergency, but she wasn’t sure that she had remembered to put the Do Not Disturb card on her door last night or not.

 

Either way, the door opened without her consent. It allowed her mother in. The teens squirmed a bit uncomfortably and made a little space between themselves as the older redhead swept in with a brown paper bag full of something.

 

Anne Possible tisked slightly as she sat the bag down on the in-suite table, “No need to uncuddle on my account kids.”

 

Kim still blushed at the permission, shaking her head. It wasn’t like she and Ron had been doing anything, heck he was still fully dressed, but she was still of an age to be embarrassed about being in bed with her boyfriend when her mother came into the room.

 

Anne turned, and seemed to read the expression on her daughter’s face. Sighing, she smiled and set about opening the bag up, “Seriously, Kimmie. I know I have to get used to you being an adult now. I may not exactly like the thought; but you’re not a little girl any more, and this hotel room is as close to an apartment as you’re likely to have for a while. I need to get comfortable with the idea that you and Ron are going to be… doing things in private that you’re perfectly entitled to do.”

 

Still blushing, Kim looked around her surroundings. She supposed her mom was right, about the privacy at least. She and Daddy were still living out of an emergency housing trailer on the lot where the house was being rebuilt, and the tweebs were up in Montana. It really was kinda sorta like the teen had an apartment of her own, even if most apartments weren’t nearly so nicely appointed, nor did they come with rudimentary cleaning service. Especially for nineteen-year-old girls not yet even into college.

 

Ron seemed to stir and become reenergized by the smell which finally came wafting up from the brown paper bag, sitting up, “Whatcha got there Mrs. Dr. P?”

 

“Well, I wish it was something nice, but it’s just a couple of egg and toasts with bacon from the food tent at the hospital. Powdered eggs and pre-cooked bacon is still better than nothing at all I suppose, but I’m really ready for my kitchen to be done.” The middle-aged physician nodded as she set about arranging the paper-wrapped packets. “Now, what’s this I hear about you being in my ER last night, Ronald?”

 

The blond boy frowned a bit at that, squirming where he still sat in Kim’s arms, “…uhhhh.”

 

Kim sighed. Of course her mother would have heard something by now. “Mom… It’s no big, really.”

 

“Kimberly, I may not have come on shift until Midnight, but I heard all about how Monique came in for a gunshot wound. I’m just thankful that she was wearing some kind of bullet proof vest.” The faintly greying redhead frowned, “That is NOT no big. I’m spending most of my days fixing construction injuries and conclusions and the occasional bout of malnutrition or sanitation-induced dysentery. So when someone gets brought in with a GSW, it tends to be the talk of the shop.”

 

Sighing, she toyed with her foam coffee cup, “Bubble-butt, what if she hadn’t been wearing body armor, for whatever reason. Worse, what if it had been Ron, or heaven forbid, you? I know you’re amazing, but you’re still not immortal. Kimmie, you’re my daughter. I don’t like to think about you not being there.”

 

Both teens looked away in embarrassment as they listened to Anne chastise them.

 

Finally, the teen heroine looked up, “Honestly, it wasn’t even a… it’s not… It wasn’t like I was looking for trouble, Mom. Ron and Monique and Shego and I were just dancing at the club and someone tried to take the place over. We had to do SOMETHING.”

 

“Why was Monique wearing body armor anyway?” Anne frowned, tilting her head at the sudden realization.

 

“She said she was testing a new battle-bra for Club Banana and wanted to see if it was comfortable enough for long term use under social circumstances,” Ron supplied, looking up and remembering the bra, and being a bit surprised at just how… cuppy Monique was when he had taken it from the doctors as they examined her. “Man, it must be, you shoulda seen the way she and Shego were dancing it up!”

 

“Shego and Monique were dancing?” Anne tilted her head as she sipped at her bulk-brewed coffee.

 

Kim blushed again, rising from bed in her pajamas and making her way to the little table, “Yeah… What was it Shego called it Ron, Bra Curious?”

 

“Bar Curious,” Ron laughed, “I think we both got bra’s on our brains today KP.”

 

“Yeah, that,” Kim shook her head. “Something about trying to get boys attention. By dancing with a hot girl.”

 

“Mmmm,” Anne frowned, shaking her head, “I don’t know if I will ever understand your generation Kimmie… and I know I’m still not comfortable with this Shego Person. It wasn’t that long ago she was trying very hard to really hurt you both.”

 

“Mom,” the teen redhead sighed at this complaint yet again, “I know, believe me, it still kinda weirds me out too… but I’d rather have a Shego I can trust who is a bit weird than a Shego who I am scared of.”

 

“Scared?” Ron tilted his head, one of the egg sandwiches on the verge of entering his mouth, “When has anything ever scared you KP?”

 

“Um, lots of times, Ron,” She huffed a bit over her orange juice, “Dating you, for one thing, remember? But Shego? Mom’s right, she could REALLY hurt me if she’d ever wanted to. Just because I never LOOKED scared doesn’t mean that there weren’t ever times I was terrified of fighting a woman who can melt steel with her…”

 

The teen trailed off, shivering as the events of the previous night came screaming into her mind. Adrenalyn’s gun, shining in the club’s lights, and then dropping to the floor, sagging and rubbery with the heat of Shego’s plasma. “W- with her bare… her bare hands… her hand.”

 

The teen shot to her feet and ran to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as she hit the porcelain in front of the toilet, retching as emotions washed over her.

 

The brain surgeon shot the teenage boy in his daughter’s bed a loaded look. It took Ron several minutes, but he finally realized what Kim’s Mom might be thinking, and he held his hand up, “No- nonono! We haven’t done anything like that! Scouts honor!”

 

Anne shook her head at the Pixie Scout salute that the eighteen year old boy was throwing, sighing into her disposable coffee cup.

 

**Middleton, Colorado;**

**Little Lorwardia Refugee Camp**

Monique was not a jealous person, really she wasn’t. But as she levered herself into the bunk bed in the government issued mobile home, she couldn’t help but utter a soft curse as her ribs complained from the bone-deep bruises she had sustained even through the prototype battle bra.

 

Kim got to go back to a five star hotel and bed down in a luxurious five star mattress. So did Shego. And Monique knew that Ron often shared the bed with Kim, even if they both denied it.

 

Monique was relegated to a reedy twin mattress, above her mother’s similarly reedy but at least full-sized mattress inside the FEMA trailer in the refugee camp.

 

A thought flitted through her mind… maybe if she’d let Shego sneak that kiss, she could have gone back to the hotel?

 

“Ugh… I swear…” she chastised herself after a moment. “Not that kinda girl. Not _even_ for a girl like that. Well not for any girl.”

 

She stopped, looking at the molded plastic ceiling, “Great, now they got me talkin’ to myself like some wacked out supervillain. Make me begin to rethink this whole promotion dealio.”

 

The doorbell ding-donged and she grumbled. The freaking sun was only now coming up, who could be there now? Mister Banana had flown back to Paris already, and Martin Smarty to wherever he went. She was sure that her party mates from the night before were all dead asleep by now.

 

At least her mother was working the graveyards at the Red Cross shelter, and hadn’t been around to ask why she was out so late, why her shirt had holes in it, and was in a bag at her side, and why anything else.

 

And she supposed she should count herself lucky that she was in a trailer that had a doorbell, in the long-term housing section of the camp. People whose homes had been damaged but not destroyed were in the short term area. They got only pop-up campers or tents, no electricity or running water.

 

A fact she was reminded of when the doorbell again sounded from its box on the ceiling just across from her bed.

 

Muttering a dark curse to whatever Gods were listening at this hour, “Justaminute! HYDH”

 

She rolled back off the bed she had only just settled into and sighed, climbing the short ladder to the floor. A third time in as many minutes the doorbell sounded.

 

“I Said HYDH! Hold Your Damned Horses!” She grumbled and yanked open the flimsy door on the mobile home, “What?!”

 

On opening the door, she was confronted with someone in a grey uniform. She recognized it as a Henchco Model Five jumpsuit. She only knew that because she’d been boning up on her professional competition. The lines were functional, but very bland and militaristic, they had no flair at all.

 

And on a petite girl, or maybe an androgynous guy? Wait, she looked kinda like…

 

“Monique LaRey?” the pale girl inclined her head, backlit by the sun rise as she looked up the two steps at the disheveled girl of color.

 

“Uh… yeah, what’s it to you?”

 

“You were with Kim Possible and Shego last night?”

 

Monique narrowed her eyes… someone in a Hencho uniform who was looking after Kim and Shego’s whereabouts was not good news. Thinking quickly, Monique laid a hand to one side. To the outside observer, it seemed as if he was leaning on the door frame.

 

In fact, she was gripping the handle of the fire extinguisher.

 

“I need to know where they’re staying.” The slim uniformed hench looked upwards, mounting one step of the three that led to the mobile-home.

 

When she saw the henchperson mount the step, she grabbed the extinguisher off its hook and swung wildly, “Oh No You Don’t!”

 

“Yeesh!” Sharon ducked the bright red weapon and glared, “Bogus! It was just a question!”

 

She flared briefly and flung a softball of plasma into her would-be attacker.

 

Monique was in no way expecting someone in a grey jumpsuit and weighing ninety eight pounds soaking wet to wield the same powers as her dance partner, and she was no longer wearing anything remotely resembling body armor. The shot from three feet away hit her in the gut and knocked her into the trailer, taking the wind from her chest and singing her thrift-store shirt.

 

Sharon quickly cast a glance around, ensuring she hadn’t been seen, and then swept up into the trailer, clapping the light weight door shut behind her. She kicked the weapon, apparently a fire extinguisher, out of the older girl’s grasp and glared.

 

“Let’s try this again. Where is my Evil Clone, and what has she done with Kim Possible?!”

 

Monique might be stunned and a little pink around the navel, but she was not the softball she appeared to be. She’d been on a mission with Kim, AND life in a refugee camp had a way of building core muscles in surprising ways.

 

She whip-kicked her feet in the narrow space, taking out the grey-suited girl’s ankles and getting her own legs beneath her. She scooted up the wall in the narrow space of the trailer’s entryway and scanned her surroundings for anything she could use as a weapon.

 

And then she hit the floor, the world going swirly around her in a green haze. Her eyes only caught the boots of her attacker, who had been faster to her feet than the fashion talent had estimated.

 

Sharon sighed, extinguishing her “kiss of death” glow from her finger tips, having touched the back of the black girl’s head when she wasn’t looking. “Darn it, now what?! She was just supposed to tell me where her friend Kim was, not attack me!”

 

She caught sight of herself in a nearby mirror and sighed. Probably the para-military wardrobe didn’t help.

 

Well, Sharon Sullivan was nothing if not resourceful, so after she tied up her impromptu captive, she turned and started raiding the dresser. A few minutes later got her something passing for modern chic, whatever that was in 2008. Unfortunately it was still somewhat baggy on her lithe frame. She briefly cast her thoughts on her cloned counterpart’s physique, which would have better matched the fit.

 

Muttering a dark curse, the slim Go sibling grabbed her impromptu captive at the ankles and hoisted her up onto the bed of the mobile home. A zip of the weird plastic cuffs in the pockets of the Henchco uniform saw to it that she wouldn’t be subjected to any more gonzo counter-attacks. She marveled at the zip tie things. They were basically just electrical ties on an industrial scale, but she wondered why nobody had ever hit on the idea before. It seemed imminently clever compared to having to cart around stainless steel and a key all the time, or titanium in the case of Electronique.

 

Sitting down, Sharon waited for her counterpart to awaken, flipping the latch on the door lock just in case anyone else decided to let themselves in. “Great, from fifteen year old superhero to kidnapper in twenty four hours. Got to be a new personal best for screw-ups, Sharry.”


End file.
